Scars
by StumpyTPDimples
Summary: Scars always held pretty interesting stories. None more so than those gracing Clint Barton's body. (HAWK-GUY SERIES PART 2)
1. Chapter 1

Muse is on a roll! Maybe because I have a project due, I dunno, but I'm finally getting around to editing all my old stuff!

Here we go!

Little series story for you!

Little fluff!

Disclaimer; Still own nothing of Marvel! Quit asking, it upsets me!

* * *

"Just relax, you baby." She laughed, throwing his sweat soaked t-shirt into the hamper for wash. "Had you dropped the macho act and actually told me earlier, you wouldn't be like this right now."

It was one of the days Natasha always dreaded most. Her boyfriend was sick. And holy crap, when Clint Barton was sick, it was always worse than having a toddler to mind!

She knew from when he was injured all those times before, he was a horrible patient. The fact he was now trying to get out of his bed proved he was the same when sick.

"I'm fine, Tash. Let's just get back to training." He sighed, hands braced on the mattress to help him sit up. He froze when his eyes met her glare, slowly lowering to lie back down. "Or rest.. Rest is good too."

"Damn straight." She laughed, tucking him in before kissing his forehead and turning to leave.

"Nat.." Good lord that pleading voice always killed her, especially with that weak fever twinge in it. She turned to look at him, tough his eyes were pretty distant. "Can you stay..?"

"Of course." She whispered with a smile, going to lie on the bed and into his welcoming arms.

It was about a month since SHIELD had fallen, so this was a regular nightly position for them.

She wasn't tired at all, it only being about 11 in the morning or so, so she just ran her fingers over his chest as he relaxed, examining every little mark that graced his solid body.

One stood out more than others, a nasty sized one that rose and fell in different places, no consistency to it like normal ones. She never seen one like it before, and never noticed it because, well, the times he was topless she was focused on other things entirely.. Scars definitely weren't in her mind!

"Lebanon." He whispered to her, she always found it weird how he could just answer unspoken questions like that. "The botched evac of soldiers. Remember?"

She frowned a little in confusion, honestly not remembering. Though she could recall de-briefing's he went to about something to do with Lebanon. He always told her to stay away from them, she never knew why.

She heard the chuckle rip through his chest, causing her to look up at him. His eyes were closed, face tinged pink, so she was worried the fever was making him mad.

"Not surprised." He finally said, hugging her a little tighter. "They had you pretty doped up for a while after.."

"They did..?" She asked in confusion, and he just nodded.

"It was barely a year before New York, Tash.." He began, and she snuggled in to listen to the tale he was, no doubt, about to begin.

* * *

He really hated army gear. Like seriously. It was thick and stuffy, and way too warm for Lebanon's climate. And it itched like mad!

SHIELD had gotten word that some UN peacekeepers were taken in an unpopulated hostile region. Two squadrons of them. Usually not SHIELD's concern, but there were rumours that Hydra were working in these parts, and none of the usual Lebanese groups claimed responsibility.

So, their best team was sent out to play rescue with the UN.

"Stop fidgeting, will you?" Natasha scolded, strapping two hand guns to her waist.

"Come on! You can't tell me that this doesn't annoy you!" He complained with a pout, tugging the collar of the cammo gear they were ordered to wear.

"It's just for one mission, Barton. You'll survive." She smiled, slinging her machine gun around her shoulders, just like Clint, and every other operative agent stuck in the back of this van.

"I don't understand why I couldn't bring my bow.."

"Any kills can't be traced back to SHIELD. So shut up about it." She growled, pinching his leg as punishment.

No one knew they weren't military. They were there for a simple scout assignment. See if it is Hydra, help as much as possible without over doing it, then get the hell out of there.

"Phillips!" The commanders voice boomed, which made Clint look to him. God, he hated authority so much.. But he had to play his part! He sounded angry at this Phillips guy though!

Oh wait.. That was him..

"Sir?" He replied, sitting to attention. He could just feel Nat smirk beside him.

"Next time answer me the first time, damn yank!" He growled out, his british accent sometimes making it difficult for Clint to understand. But, commander Bradford was a well respected guy in the British military, so he'd be nice!

"You'll be outside with O'Rourke to usher the troops to the van, understood?"

"But sir.." He started with a kind of panicked voice. He couldn't leave Natasha like that. Not if Hydra was actually around.

"Excuse me?" The commander growled, but Natasha's hand on his knee told him to drop it.

"Understood, sir." Barton growled right back, venom dripping from the 'sir'.

The van squeaked to a hault, and they all clambered out to the unforgiving cold of midnight Lebanon.

They were a little over a kilometre from the bunker, they'd have to walk the rest of the way so the van's don't ruin the surprise.

All except Barton and this O'Rourke guy, that is.

Clint stayed away from everyone, acting as though he was helping Natasha check her weapon.

"Keep the camera on, got it?" He ordered her, a slight frown on his face as he checked that the screen to the feed on his watch was working. "And comms. I can be your second eyes and ears."

"Relax." Her hand on his cheek stopped him, and he looked us to see Natasha gracing him with an amused smile. "You worry too much. It's not my first solo.."

"Costello! Roll out!" Bradford's voice boomed, causing Clint to frown.

"Sir!" Natasha called back, giving Clint's arm a little encouraging squeeze before leaving.

While O'Rourke, a young guy with short black cropped hair, big build, thickest Northern Irish accent he ever heard, relaxed on the back of the truck; Clint watched the other five soldiers leave until they were nothing but dots on the horizon.

"Y'seem to be a worrier, Yank." O'Rourke's laughing voice reached his ears, and he just shrugged.

"Just wanted a bit of the action is all." He simply replied, going to sit next to the Irish man.

"Not get enough of that in your own army? I'd bet a shit tonne that your military is alot more exciting than ours!"

"Sometimes." Cilnt laughed, swinging his legs off the truck. He'd love to live in a neutral country like O'Rourke! All Ireland did was sent peacekeepers from time to time!

Maybe when he gets out of SHIELD.

If he gets out of SHIELD..

"Say, what's that?" Clint's eyes widened as the soldier poked his comms sets. How did he even notice them!? They were pretty far in his ear!

"Eh, hearing aids." He chuckled nervously, taking the aid from the opposite ear to show him since a soldier would know in an instant what a comm set looked like.

"A deaf soldier.." O'Rourke hummed, a curious pout crossing his features. "No wonder Bradford left you behind! You're useless!"

"Shut it." Barton growled, not copping that it was just a joke.

The conversation dropped, so Clint got up and wandered, moving away so he could talk to Natasha.

"Any Hydra?" He said through his comms, looking to the screen for a sign.

'Definitely something.' sign was sent back. Three fingers held up. One was none, two was maybe, three was they saw something to suggest it was true, four was a definite sighting.

"Stay safe please.." He whispered with a slight frown, grinning though when a middle finger appeared on the screen.

No need to tell you all what that meant.

Another 20 minutes passed before he heard anymore through the comms. He found the comotion odd. They found the soldiers, but were breaking into teams. Bradford had asked Natasha to scope out the rest of the place with him while the others led to captured men out.

His gut didn't like that. He chose her over his own soldiers.. Why..?

"I don't like this, Tash.." He said through the comms, watching the action on the screen.

He let her lead, so he couldn't see what Bradford was up to.

One hand moved up and down infront of the camera, a fisted one. Thumb facing up then straight.

Took him a moment to realise she was half signing to relax, so he took a deep breath to try.

He was just over reacting. Probably heat stroke from this damn get up.

"Holy shit.." He whispered in disbelief when Natasha kicked in a door, her own Russian version of 'Holy shit' escaping her lips at the same time.

It must have been the main office of the place. Definitely the boss man's place. Behind a large wooden desk held a huge painting of Red Skull, the founder and former leader of Hydra before Captain America took him out all those years ago.

He watched as Natasha walked the room, glancing at various papers, majority of them blue prints and plans for different weapons, some just boring contracts, and others were kill orders. There was one folder that read 'Stark' and Clint made a mental note to definitely grab that one later.

"Impressive, isn't it?" He heard over the comms, the faint voice belonging to Bradford.

The commander didn't sound phased at all, and of the parts of the room Clint could see on the small screen, he noticed the soldier go to the desk.

"Have you seen many of the bases, Agent Romanoff?"

Shit.

Clint's eyes widened when the commander took a seat behind the desk, gun casually aimed at Natasha.

Shit shit.

"Seems like you did your research.." Natasha replied calmly, he noticed that she was disarming herself.

Shit shit shit.

Dammit, get out of there!

He would have shouted that down the comms, but he was afraid Bradford would hear and he'd get her killed.

"Oh no, we always knew about you." He chuckled, sounding so damn casual with her. "We always knew we were on SHIELDs radar, but never thought they'd send the infamous Black Widow after us.. Or Hawkeye for that matter. Was really disappointed he didn't bring his bow.."

"You'd be dead right now if he did." She replied coldly, which was damn true!

If he wasn't at risk of being shot by O'Rourke for deserting, he'd be running to get her!

That, and he trusted his partner enough to let her handle this.

"Perhaps.." Bradford hummed, then Clint's heart sank as he fired the gun. He didn't know where the soldier hit her, but Natasha instantly fell to the ground. He could just see Bradford's boots approaching.

Shit shit fuck shit bastard!

"Tash!?" He yelled down the comms, looking up a moment when O'Rourke came out of the truck. He switched to a harsh whisper so he wouldn't get suspicious. "Dammit Widow, answer me! That's an ord-"

He stopped when he heard a spine chilling command from the comms, O'Rourke's hand going to his ear meaning the message was going to him.

"Widow's mine. Taking her to interogation. Take out Hawk."

O'Rourke didn't cop that Clint could hear the command, because the young man was smiling at him.

"Just got word they're safe. Set up the back of the truck for me?"

Clint just nodded, following the soldier to the van.

Pick your moment, Barton..

When O'Rourke was opening the back of the van, he struck. The butt of his machine gun struck the base of the young man's skull. Enough force to send him to the ground, not enough to kill or even knock him out. Clint needed answers and he couldn't get them if the last two happened.

When the soldier was on his back, Clint kicked his gun from out of reach and instantly straddled him, pinning his arms to his sides with his legs.

"Where's he taking her?" He growled, being answered with just a smirk.

Three punches across the dace. He hadn't time for this!

"Oh just go home you absolute wanker! Find a new fuck buddy!" O'Rourke laughed, moving his jaw around to test the pain.

Four more punches. A hell of a lot stronger this time.

"Where the fuck is interrogation!?"

"Like I'd tell you." The cocky voice was gone. Guess the punches and likely concussion was getting to him. "Hydra's so much better than SHIELD at teaching how to deal with interrogation.."

Clint frowned in annoyance at that, taking a handgun from his holder.

A bullet to the shoulder gained such a delightful scream from the Irish man.

"Five shots left, man." Clint said calmly, though his mind was going mad with worry.

"Hail Hydra.." O'Rourke replied through gritted teeth, once he gained enough breath to.

A bullet to the other shoulder. Another scream.

"N-not gonna work!"

Clint rolled his eyes at that comment. Of course it would. It always does.

Both knee's got a bullet this time. He'd break.

"Next one's going through your balls you piece of shit!" Clint growled, really sick of these games! He held the barrel of the gun to the afore mentioned body part just to prove he wasn't bluffing.

He screamed a moment, the barrel was scalding. It was literally burning his balls off.

"The basement of the bunker!" The soldier yelled, whimpering from pain then.

Clint smiled sweetly at him, patting his cheek with his free hand a moment.

"Was that so hard? Thanks pal!" He said in a cheery voice, shooting his balls anyways though!

That bullet earned about half a scream before the guy finally passed out.

Clint got up and didn't even bother move the bleeding mess of a soldier before him. He just ran towards the bunker, re-filling his gun as he went.

This is why the commander wanted him to stay behind. The asshole knew as soon as they arrived who they were. He had all this planned from the word go.

If he lay even one finger on his partner, there'd be another dick shot off today.

When he was about ten minutes out, he took the satellite phone from his pocket.

"Evac, Hawk in. Widow comped. Extraction in progress. Need medical."

"Roger that Hawk. Bird is 30 clicks. Over."

He growled to himself and pushed on, 30 minutes was way too much time for something bad to happen! He burst right into the bunker, not bothering to see if there were actually any other Hydra soldiers around. Even if shot, he'd still get her out.

No one was around though, so he was actually happy for a moment! The previous team obviously took them all out before he could get there. Or Bradford had none in there, one or the other.

When the basement door appeared infront of him, he paused, needing a moment to catch his breath. This gear was heavy! New found respect for soldiers!

He made sure he had the machine gun at the ready and cracked the door open.

All thoughts of danger left his mind when he saw his partner tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Her jacket was gone, leaving her in the dark green undershirt issued. A wet dark spot was pretty damn visible, even in the low light, meaning she was shot pretty badly just next to her stomach. Commander obviously had good aim. A painful place to be shot without damaging any organs that could kill.

"Tash.." He whispered in shock, running in and over to his partner. First thing's first; he checked to make sure she still actually had a pulse.

Faint, but there. He checked her eyes, and they were just about open, but glassed over.

Pain wouldn't do that..

"Cli-" She began, though she couldn't finish. He couldn't tell if it was pain that stopped her or if she physically couldn't talk.

He had a bad feeling..

"Shh.." He whispered, stroking her cheek a moment to comfort her. Though her eyes suddenly came to life a little, the pleading look in them confusing him.

What was wrong with her..?

He found out what as soon as the side of his head was struck, causing him to fall away from Natasha.

White spots were all over his vision as he tried get back up, a swift kick to the ribs sent him onto his back though before he could complete the task.

"Agent Barton! An honour!" He looked up at he commander above him, though the man's face was blurry Clint just knew he was smirking. "Great fan of your work."

"Oh, go to hell.." Clint growled, though the boot constricting his throat soon turned that into a whimper.

"Already heading there. Might as well enjoy the ride a little!" He laughed, Clint faintly registering another pair of boots by him. The other guy took a hold of Barton and pulled him to his feet, restraining him in a choke hold. Bradford smiled as he began taking Clint's weapons.

"Really wanted to see your bow.." He actually sounded upset, though he was now happily looking through the set of daggers Clint brought along.

He turned his gaze towards Natasha, and she was just watching this all unfold. No protest, no anger in those eyes, nothing. What had they done to her..?

"Planning some interrogations?" He asked smugly, holding one of the more brutal blades to the light to examine it.

Clint shuddered a little, it was a favourite of his, but only in his hands. It was a jaggedly sharp curved blade, designed to inflict as much pain as possible going in, and even more when coming out. The healing of the wound hurt too, because of the large crevice the curve shape left. Years later, if something pushed against the scar that remained, the person would more than likely be sore for a week. It was a horrific blade he used in countless interrogations, and now it seemed it would be used today by another hand.

"Have to be prepared for everything." Clint choked out, difficult to with the asshole's lacky strangling him.

"Suppose so.. Hope you prepared for this.." Bradford hummed, the next thing Barton heard was his own scream as the blade was jabbed in his chest, avoiding the heat by millimetres, he later noted. This guy was one sadistic genius.

He didn't even give Clint the satisfaction of bleeding out! The soldier turned to go back towards Natasha, leaving the dagger to send while hot painful bursts throughout Hawkeye's body.

"Don't you touch her!" Clint yelled, struggling as best he could against his captor. Pain be dammed, near unconsciousness be dammed, he couldn't let the asshole touch her!

Bradford sent Clint a smirk, the other blade Hawkeye owned in his hand. "Evac 15 clicks." He suddenly heard from the comms. He just had to live 15 minutes, then they could get out of here.

"My boy.." The Hydra commander smirked, drawing the blade along Natasha's cheek to draw a nice thin line of blood. No pain, no scream, not even a flinch. This confused Clint.

He knew Natasha was good, but there wasn't even a slight flinch from her. She just kept staring stone eyed at Clint.

"She's so drugged up right now she can barely feel her own limbs."

"On what..?" Hawkeye asked in shock, eyes wide as his voice tried hide the worried tone.

Bradford just smirked even wider, cutting the restraints off Natasha's hands.

"Sweetie, what's your friends name there?"

"Clinton Francis Barton." She instantly replied, Clint's jaw dropping slack at her robot-esque voice. Bradford laughed at his expression.

"Good girl. Now, tell me, what's the best way to cause young Clinton pain..?" He was kneeling infront of Natasha now, but she wasn't doing anything to stop him.

She wouldn't..

"Bad hearing.. SHIELD did tests.. You take his aids, take his sense, and his pain tolerance drops five fold.."

His heart split in two. How the hell could she give his weakness up so easily!?

"Interesting." Bradford hummed, patting Natasha's head as if she was a pet.

"Nat.." Clint whispered in shock, falling to his knees when the lackey pulled him down.

"We have perfected interrogation, Agent Barton." Bradford smiled, kneeling infront of Hawkeye. "Pain works, but a nice numbing agent and truth serum works alot better."

"Evac on site. Carrier 1 click south. Copy?"

He just has to get them out and they'll be fine..

"Deaf then.." The commander hummed, reaching into Clint's ears to yank out the aids, no matter how much he struggled.

Natasha was right. A little after he lost his hearing, they did a study on him. They wanted to see if the tales were true, if one sense goes the others heighten. It was originally to see if he managed to gain even better eyesight, but it soon turned into every sense. The sense of touch was by far the worst. That was the one with pain. And when they tested different kind of pain stimuli, torture techniques, he caved at a five fold threshold. That meant, when deaf, he felt pain five times worse than normal.

So, for example, the dagger in his chest right now was so painful that it was about to make him black out. He had to get them out though, so he fought it back.

Panic must've rushed to his eyes, because Bradford's smirk grew scary.

He was finally released by the lackey, but he didn't have a moment to rest.

A kick to his chest, to the dagger to be more precise, instantly had him screaming in pain. But the commander wasn't satisfied with that, because he was instantly ontop of Barton, landing blow after blow to his head, occasionally using the straight dagger to stab at random points on his body.

The pain was excruciating, he couldn't hear it but he could see Bradford laughing. His mind was blurry, but he had to do something. So, when the commander was distracted with his own smugness, Clint grabbed the soldiers gun and shot the bastard right between the eyes.

He took a moment before aiming at the other man in the room. His vision may have been ridiculously blurry, but Hawkeye never missed. So the bullet landed right between his eyes too.

Barton took a moment to take a deep breath, as deep as he could manage at least. It was so damn painful..

He mustered up all his strength and pushed the dead soldier off his body, adrenaline taking over and helping him stand.

Natasha was coming somewhat through the haze, because her eyes were beginning to look panicked.

"Shh.. I'm fine.." He whispered to her, not hearing her words but knowing it must have been something to that effect. He as bleeding from alot of places, but not too bad. The second they took this dagger out then he'd have a problem. But her gunshot was still bleeding profusely. He had to get her some help.

He smiled through the pain to reassure her, worked through it too as he carefully lifted her from the chair.

He had to get to the evac point.

Everywhere was burning, his vision was blurry, he couldn't find his aids so he couldn't hear if someone was following them.

He pushed on trough, he had to get her to safety, that was the only thing going through his mind. She lost way too much blood already.

He made it out the front door and gave a smile of relief when he saw the carrier waiting for them.

Gathering every ounce of energy, he broke out into a run, ignoring all his injuries.

He climbed in with Natahsa and let the paramedics take her, her panicked eyes barely opened.

Another medic was saying something to him, beginning to work on him as the carrier took off.

Natasha was freaking out, he knew by how much she was thrashing about. He pushed the medics away and stood from his seat, going over to gently stroke her cheek.

She relaxed, thankfully.

"Get some sleep.. I got first watch.." He hoped the words came out right, because he knew it would be the only thing that would calm her down.

She said something as he eyes fell closed, but his lip reading was terrible, even on a good day.

He fell into a chair when he knew she was safe, gritting his teeth as the medic began pulling the dagger from him. The blackness of unconsciousness quickly approached, and he welcomed it like an old friend.

* * *

"I woke a week later.." He said in a whisper, his eyes having been closed a while.

She was sitting up, having jumped when she was captured in the story. It honestly felt like he was just making it up, but as he went on things began to come back to her.

He was weak telling the tale, so through out it she had to nudge him awake a lot.

"They kept you sedated for three days, sent you off on some mission then.. I didn't get to see you for three weeks after cause they were afraid my injuries would make you relapse."

"You lied to me. You said those bandages were from getting roughed up on a hit." She whispered in shock, remembering the day they did see eachother again. Even then he was in a state. Must've been a bad beat down.. Worse than he described.

He just laughed and nodded, nuzzling the pillow a little.

She made an upset sound and lay back down, her hand resting on his stomach as she gave the jagged scar a soft kiss.

"I love you.." She whispered after a while, and his lips were felt ontop of her head as he gave it a soft kiss.

"I love you too." He whispered back, but she had to shake her head.

He went back for her. Took torture she knew was his worst fear. Managed to survive it and still rescued her even though she betrayed him. There was only one thing she would have said to him on that carrier that day.

She pulled back and looked at his face, his confused eyes meeting hers.

"What you couldn't hear me say.." She began, but his softening eyes and his arms inviting her in for a hug meant he understood her already.

She happily cuddled into his arms, a little smile on her face as they relaxed.

"Good to know all I need do is die for your love." He teased after a while, chuckling when she growled and pinched his stomach.

"You're not the only one who ever went on a suicide mission, y'know." She growled, though she smiled a little when his hand gently rubbed her back.

"Is that so?"

"Oh, don't tell me you forget Khost.."

She smiled a little sadly at his shiver, giving his chest a little kiss to calm him down.

Of course he remembered.. One of the worst missions she can remember.


	2. Chapter 2

I have a concussion from rugby so it gives me a few days to write!

Thanks for liking the first chapter!

Onto the second!

Review pretty please! I have one last chapter for this little story and I need to know if it need to change! :P

Disclaimer; Don't own anything to do with Marvel! Ok? Ok!

* * *

The rise and fall of his chest was always a hypnotic sight for her. It was relaxing, and always made her know he was alive and well. That's all she really wanted in life now; one thing to hold onto, one thing to help her feel secure, even if that one thing was just Clint.

She'd actually be pretty fine if that one thing was only Clint!

The fever took him to the land of sleep after he finished the story, leaving Natasha to just relax beside him.

She wouldn't leave, just incase he needed her. He got bad nightmares lately, on a normal day like. So she could only imagine what horrors would bring.

She nuzzled his chest a little and gave it a kiss. She'd only ever be this relaxed with him. This un-Widow like with him. She knew he noticed it, he mentioned it a lot, how happy and honoured he felt that she only really smiled at him. Properly, at least. Tony often got her "I'll kill you" smile.

She ran her hand along his chest once more, pouting in concentraction at all the little bumps and cuts. She never really got scars, she was lucky like that. Her body just didn't clot into scar tissue. He was riddled in them though. No doubt any little cut he ever got scarred.

The long one right down his side always upset her. It was from the first time she properly failed him. The first time she felt heart broken.

It was one scar of many from that mission in Khost.

* * *

"Just listen to me for one fucking minute, will you?" He growled, his eyes hard, some anger she'd never seen from him before flashing across them.

So she listened to him.

"They know we're here so we're fucked. Get out of here and let me do my job."

"It's not just your job." She whispered back harshly, shifting a little in their little corner to try wake her leg up. "This was my mission."

"STRIKE Team; Delta's." He correcred, and she rolled her eyes. She hated being part of a team. "My job is to shoot. Yours is interrogation. Get out of here so you can live to fulfill your part you stubborn bitch."

She slapped him, and he looked ready to pounce, until she drew the pistol from her waist and aimed it at his face.

"Call me bitch one more time, Barton." She growled, finger ghosting over the trigger. "I dare you to."

"Can you just trust me for like five minutes!?" Clint yelled this time, and she wanted to punch him because they were hiding from pretty heavily armed guards, anything above a whisper would have them caught.

She shook her head.

"I don't trust people. Joys of being the Black Widow." She simply replied, putting the gun back in it's place before peeking over the edge of the small partition to see if they were clear yet. "And I especially don't trust you, Hawkboy. Tried kill me once."

"Eye." He corrected through a sigh, and she smirked a little at the irritation clear in his voice. "And you actually left me for dead so you're one to talk."

The mission had gone unexpectantly wrong. Simply because they had the completely wrong information. What they thought to be a simple smuggling ring turned out to be a giant weapons and drugs operation. There was only the one team, STRIKE Team; Delta. A.K.A Black Widow and Hawkeye.

They had choppers about a mile out feeding information but their comms had been disconnected by the radar dish.

This wasn't their first mission together, they had a few before hand, but they still hated everything about each other so they weren't really a team yet.

"You want to go guns blazing? Fine." He eventually sighed, his hand behind his back to grab an arrow. "But if you get killed, I'm dancing on your grave."

"Ditto." She smirked, blowing him a kiss before jumping up and over the partition, both guns raised as she waiting for an attack.

Nothing.

So she went deeper into the building. From the outside of the built up area of Khost, it looked like a normal office building. Inside, looked like a normal office building. Until doors were opened and each room contained different kinds of weapons or drugs, all of them looked like they could kill in a second.

She glanced behind her as she started up some stairs, Barton no where in sight.

She laughed to herself, the idiot probably went to find some high place to watch everything. She still had no idea how he was an agent. All he did was watch and shoot, nothing special.

Alright, his aim was perfect, but that was about it.

Carefully, she opened the door at the top of the stairs, her jaw dropping at the size of the room facing her.

Boxes upon boxes lined the walls, each marked with different pictures of guns or words that she assumed were the names of whatever drugs were inside.

And guards. So many fucking guards. She had to close the door again and take a minute to gather her thoughts. They had to get the mission done and over with, they had to find the main guy and take him in for questioning. And it seemed like she'd have to cross the warehouse floor to get to that point. She checked the ammo in her guns, then the ammo in her bites, and burst in guns blazing.

They weren't expecting it, which is odd since they all knew herself and Barton were in the building. Maybe they thought the agents had given up and gone home by now.

So she easily took out half of them with the ammo in her guns. Once that was done, she had to use the ammo left in her bites, but the guards just kept going after her.

So dropped down to avoid a kick aimed at her head, spinning around to take the mans feet from under him. She snapped his neck with her legs as she simultaneously went for the next guard after her.

There were too many though, and she had no ammo left. She didn't know where they were all coming from, but they had her pinned to the floor defenceless in moments.

There was a familiar sound above all the shouting, the sound of an arrow flying through the air, Barton had done his job!

Though, no one fell, she didn't hear the 'thump' of a body. What was he doing?

She glanced up as the guards looked around frantically, noting the little red beeping light of his exploding arrow embedded in the wall.

Her eyes went wide. Exploding arrow..

He was going to kill the two of them..

The idiot.

BOOM! Then blackness. That fucking idiot..

She woke with a start, the world spinning as she sat bolt upright. She had to close her eyes again though otherwise she'd have blacked out completely.

"Breathe Natasha, you're ok." She heard beside her, and she'd know Coulson's voice anywhere.

She listened to her handler, trying to calm her rapid breathing as he lay her back down. She took a moment, eventually calming down, and allowed herself to assess her injuries.

A banging headache, her wrist hurt but she could move it so there was no cast. She had a dull pain along her leg, and as she moved it, she felt the familiar tug of stitches.

"Better than Francis, I'd say.." She whispered, her hand gently rubbing her forehead.

No response. Nothing even from Barton about using his middle name, he usually went mad at that. That meant things were bad. Barton always got hurt, because he threw himself into stupid situations or tried defend her like a god damn hero. So she knew he'd be bad.

But Coulson would always respond.

She opened her eyes and looked up at her handler, shocked to see the remains of tears on his face.

"He's not.." She started in a whisper, surprising herself by finding a lump in her throat.

She can safely and honestly say she never had any form of attachment to Barton. She never considered him a friend, barely thought of him as an ally, but he was dependable. He was her partner, and they were one hell of a team. He couldn't be gone.

"We don't know.." Coulson eventually replied, a hand running through his hair.

How can they not know!? He was either alive or dead, right? There was no in-between!

Wait..

There was an in-between..

"How could you let him get taken!?" She yelled, sitting up once again to glare at the older agent. "Dammit Coulson, he'll crack! We know what those assholes can do, they'll do worse to him!"

"We hardly had a choice, did we!?" He yelled back, and this shocked her. It was the first time he'd yelled at her. It snapped her back to normal though.

"Tracker?" She simply said, getting off the bed to go to the counter and get her weapons. They were back in the SHIELD base, she knew that because no normal hospital room would have her weapons lying around so freely.

"Not responding.." He whispered, and she froze. The only time the tracker wouldn't respond is if the agents heart was no longer beating.

"Do you have a team ready?" She responded, choosing to ignore what the information she received meant.

This was her fault. She went diving in head first, she chose to go against all those guards, she was the reason he had to give away his position and blow the place up. Once again, she was the reason Clint Barton's life was in danger and she couldn't have that red in her ledger. She already had so much in it due to him.

"Natasha, there's no point.." He said softly, and she could hear the worry in his voice. She wasn't looking at him though, she was busy refilling her weapons.

"The tracker should send his last know location.." She said sharply, slipping the magazine into the gun before strapping it to her waist. "Send them to my phone."

"He's gone, Natasha." Coulson sounded annoyed now, but she didn't care, she just went for the door. He blocked her though, and she deflated a little. The tears were falling freely from him now. "He's dead."

"Then I'm bringing back his body." She whispered harshly, glaring down his stare. "He deserves better than being left wherever they have him. He's the best agent this place has. We owe him that much."

She pushed past him then, heading down the hall.

"Agent! You don't have permission to leave!" She heard Coulson call, but she didn't stop. "You won't have a job if you continue!"

"Then consider this my resignation!" She called back when she entered the elevator, giving him a mock salute before heading up to Clint's quarters. If he was still alive, and she was getting him out, he'd need a bow.

She may not like the guy, but they were a team, and she never left a member of a team behind. That, and, she still owed him. If he was dead, this was the last thing she could do for him. She could get him home, she could give him a proper burial, she could put the archer to rest then avenge the shit out of him.

She growled a little at that thought. If that stubborn bastard died protecting her again then she'd bring him back to life and kill him herself.

She hated owing people..

She froze when she saw Barton's door open, no one should be in there. She knocked softly and peeked her head in. "Hawk..?"

She knew it wasn't him, she knew that, but it was a habit now each time she went to get him from the room.

"Not quite." A male voice responded, and an agent around her age stepped from the bathroom with a quiver of arrows and a bow in hands. She recognised him immediately. One of Clint's best friends, his former partner, Agent Ryan Douglas. Short cropped black hair, a skilled technician, usually worked with Clint because he was genius with tactics but not the best with a gun. He was a specialist in martial arts though, so he had that going for him.

He gave Natasha a sad smile. They probably had three conversations in the few months she was here, usually civil, one time not so much when he learned she tried kill his partner. "You have the same idea?"

"I guess so." She replied with a nod, noticing now that he was in his combat gear.

"Good." He grinned, nodding a little. He really was like Clint, that school boy arrogance about him. Though his was alot more tolerable than Barton's was. "You can tag along if you want."

"Please." She scoffed, arms folded across her chest. She did feel a little bad sometimes about taking his partner, the poor guy had been put on desk duty until they found someone else. "I'm the higher agent here. You wanna join STRIKE Team; Delta, then here's your chance."

She turned and left the room then, knowing the guy would follow without needing any more invitation.

She hated the team name. After this mission, she'd never use it again.

It took them about an hour to reach the building the whole mission fell apart in. The whole hour was spent going over whatever little plan they had. There were SHIELD agents stationed all around the perimeter, having been there since they dragged Natasha out but not daring go back inside.

No one had come out. Which means Barton was still in there somewhere.

"Top office, probably." Natasha said to Agent Douglas as she checked her weapons, glancing up the building then. "If our floor was destroyed, they'd have brought him up rather than down."

"That makes sense." Ryan nodded, strapping on a bullet proof vest to prepare himself. She wondered if herself and Clint were the only ones who never bothered do that.

Night had fallen, so they had Barton held up in there for easily six hours by now. Maybe longer, she didn't really know the time they finished the mission at.

"Widow." He said softly, drawing her attention. She frowned a little at the worry in his eyes. "Even if he did survive, he's been up there so long, I don't know how long he'll last.."

"He'll survive." She simply said, slinging the bow and quiver of arrows over her shoulder before heading towards the building. "He's too stubborn to leave without annoying me to death first."

It was strange how easily they fell into silence once inside the building. The only communication between the two being hand signals. Standard stuff, that wasn't what she found strange. What she found strange was how comfortably it happened when this was the first time she worked with this guy.

Though he was just like Clint. That may have been why.

They had their weapons drawn just incase there were some stragglers not in the upper levels.

Four levels up and there was no one encountered, and she was getting a little worried.

Barton should have taken out alot of them with the explosion, but there were still a few, and she didn't know if the two of them were enough to take them out.

Things got difficult when they got to the eleventh floor, the floor that the mission went to hell in. The door was blown off the hinges, so they could see in and know there were no guards in there. Still though, they took cover behind some rubble because here was where things would get unknown.

"The next set of stairs are just ahead." She whispered, peeking over the rubble to make sure she saw correctly. "We need to be careful.."

"No running in?" Ryan asked curiously, he must've been the guns blazing one before she came along.

She shook her head, a slight frown crossing her features. That's what got them in this mess in the first place. No more running in. She had to plan things now.

"We'll go slow.. Eliminate any enemies and find Barton." She said simply, standing up properly to be ready to move. "No prisoners this time. This is a rescue mission."

"Sounds like a plan." He grinned, jumping up and heading over to the door with his gun raised.

Definitely Barton.

She wondered had they trained together or something. Or perhaps Clint trained him. He was definitely younger than the archer, Clint was a good 4 years or so older than she was, so it was possible. The guy just had the same movements, the same aiming style, the same everything as Barton. She'd have to ask him when they were out of here.

And by him she meant Barton. No way that son of a bitch was dying until she said it was ok to.

Slowly, they ascended staircase after staircase.

No one.

This should make her happy, it seemed to make Ryan happy after each floor passed, but this meant one of two things.

Either they were all waiting in the main office to ambush them.

Or they weren't here.

And if they weren't here, then they wasted time on this mission, wasted time that Barton definitely didn't have right now.

As usual, when they came to another door, they took a side each and he threw a flash bang into the room. Once the light and smoke was cleared, they'd enter to see if there was anyone in the space. This was the third last floor and there was still no one!

"What the hell is going on!?" She growled, losing her cool now. There was still no sign that the idea that Clint was around here was actually true!

"Romanoff.." Douglas' voice was quiet, strange, so she looked over to him. He was on the other side of the room, at the entrance way to the next stair case, and he was looking down at something.

Curiosity got the better of her and she went over to him, freezing at what she saw.

There, at his feet, was a standard SHIELD tracker. The beeping light was off because there was no heartbeat, but holy crap there was alot of blood.

"No.." She whispered in disbelief, shaking her head at the thought they ripped it from him. That's the only way to get it out. It was close to the heart to be powered by the blood flowing from it, so the only way to take it out was to cut all the way down the side big enough to rip the little device out.

When she opened the door to the stairwell, she nearly got sick. It seemed like Ryan would for a moment, but he gathered himself before.

All the way up the stairs, all in the hall, there was blood. A steady stream of it.

He was dead. Barton was dead. There was no way he'd survive that.

"Come on." She whispered, starting up the stairs. There was the confirmation she needed. He was upstairs somewhere. She just had to get there and everything would be fine.

She froze when she heard shouting and the door slamming behind her, running back to it as quickly as she could. "Ryan!?"

"I'm fine!" He shouted back, though there was gun fire that stopped her heart. "They followed us! You go get Barton! I'll keep them here!"

She nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her, and headed up to the last level before the roof. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she threw in a flash bang, grinning when she heard some shouts. She got the bastards this time!

Once the smoke and light were gone, as the previous floors before, she jumped in with guns up. Five guys. No problem. Five expertly placed bullets into the head had them dead in a moment.

She turned and froze, eyes slightly wide.

There, chained up by the hands to the roof like some pig hanging, was Clint.

His back was to her, but she could see the gash to his side from this distance no problem. Mainly because blood was still dripping from it. His head was bowed, no doubt unconscious, no doubt in a world of pain.

Her eyes only scanned him for a moment though, because there one last guy there with a gun pointed at her partner.

"Drop them." He growled, pushing the gun into Barton's side which earned a yelp from the archer.

Still alive.. Good.

She complied, holding the guns up and releasing the magazines before slowly setting them on the ground.

The guy smirked, obviously feeling like he just won. As if.

In an instant, he was down, one of the bites on her wrists shot straight through his throat.

Never underestimate the Black Widow.

She wouldn't celebrate just yet. She couldn't.

She ran over to Clint side and checked him for a moment, his eyes were open, but barely.

She frowned and braced a hand behind his back, ready to catch him since he'd drop like a bag of potatoes once she released him.

"Nat..?" He whispered, though she didn't look at him, too busy trying to snap the chain holding him up with one hand.

"I'm here." She replied calmly, just trying to let him know everything was ok now. She had no idea what they did to him, but he knew she hated the nickname from him, so it was only used when he was drugged up or so incredibly exhausted that he couldn't possibly form her full name. She didn't want to know what they were up to.

The chain snapped, and he fell with a barely concealed whimper. She caught him though, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as she started leading him back towards the stairs. Down was easier than up. She needed to get him to the car, to the ambulance that was waiting, this was an unsanctioned mission so even if she did manage to haul him up to the roof she wouldn't be able to call for evac.

"This'll probably hurt.." She whispered to him, slowly easing him down the first set of stairs.

"S'kay.." He slurred, and she found herself glad he was still concious. He had to stay awake. He lost way too much blood.

She paused at the closed door at the end, leaning against it a moment to try listen for any movement. Agent Douglas had been fighting someone through there.

When she heard nothing, she slowly pushed it open, seeing two bodies on the ground instantly.

She froze again. There, with a bullet through his skull, was Ryan Douglas.

Dammit..

She wasn't the only one to see though, because she felt Barton tense on her side.

"Is that..?" He started, standing up a little straighter.

Dammit dammit dammit..

"Clint.." She started, but she was cut off by a growl from her partner. She looked to him as he pulled his arm away, shocked when he ripped the bow and arrow from her.

"The bastards!" He yelled, and she hadn't the chance to stop him as he ran down the next set of stairs after whoever killed his former partner.

"Barton!" She shouted, chasing after him.

She was so damn confused! He was pretty much dead in her arms just a moment ago! Now he was running like nothing was wrong!?

Already, she came across one guard, an arrow through his eye.

"Clint! Stop it!" She shouted, terrified now since there was a nice trail of blood, more than likely his.

When she went through the next door, she saw he at least listened to her and stopped, but that was just so he could send arrow after arrow into guards' skulls.

"Barton!" She finally yelled, though she froze when he turned to face her, arrow necked and aimed at her skull.

The look in his eyes.. It wasn't him. They had done something to him. The usual piercing blue had dimmed, a shadow of their usual selves.

"Who the fuck brought the kid!?" He yelled, her hands instinctively going up to show she wasn't a threat.

"He came himself, Clint.." She said calmly, carefully taking a step towards him. The arrow didn't lower. "He came to save you. We both did."

"You shouldn't have." He growled, fingers just ghosting on the string now. He was really meaning to kill her..

"I'm not the enemy.."

"But you are!" He yelled, his shoulders tensing up. "You are! You're the reason I got caught! You're the reason they put that stuff in me! I went to protect you and your stupid ass ideas! Now I'm broken and he's dead!"

"What stuff?" She asked calmly, though she was curious as fuck. What were they experimenting on him? "Clint.."

"I don't know!" He yelled, turning to send the arrow into another guards eye who just entered the room. Without missing a beat, he aimed another at Natasha.

"Barton, listen." She said calmly, approaching like she would a wounded animal now. "You don't have to do this."

He wouldn't miss, she wouldn't expect him to miss, so it didn't matter how close she got.

"You'll kill me as soon as I drop this!"

"I won't, I'm here to get you out."

He scoffed, and that actually hurt her. She risked her life to come back and get her, and he scoffed!

She knew why..

"I trust you, Clint.." She whispered, close enough now to place a hand gently on the arrow. "I trust you. Please, just trust me."

"That'd be a mistake." He whispered back, though she did begin to see something in his eyes break.

"Not anymore." She smiled, having told him plenty of times in the past that trusting her was a mistake. "Please Clint."

It took a bit of stare down, but he eventually nodded, the bow lowering and arrow going back to it's quiver.

"Ryan deserved better, Nat.. So much better.." He said quietly, and she was about to agree but he began to fall.

"Easy Hawk." She said softly, catching him and putting him in the former position before leading him from the room. She had to get him some attention.

"I hadn't spoken to him in weeks.. He probably thought I forgot about him.." He slurred as they descended the levels, and she was worried he was about to pass out.

She was surprised he actually hadn't yet. Whatever they pumped into him must've been good stuff.

"He didn't.. He still cared about you." She replied, finally leading him down the last set of stairs. "Enough to go on a suicide mission for you."

She felt him chuckle more than she could hear it, he was far too weak to give his usual hearty one.

"That mean you care about me..?" He slurred, and she had to smile.

"Don't push your luck, Hawkboy." She chuckled, placing him on the waiting trolley so he could be taken to the ambulance.

Though, maybe, just maybe, she did.

She got in the car she borrowed from SHIELD and followed the ambulance, beginning the long wait she was far too used to with Barton.

Four hours. That's how long he was in there. Long enough for her to go shower, go brief Coulson and Fury, go make sure his room and things were ok, then head back tot he infirmary.

She even managed to have a bit of a nap in the waiting room.

When a nurse came to get her, she looked like she had the worst news in the world. Dead. Definitely dead. The ass.

"So, you said he had something in him..?" The nurse asked cautiously, and Natasha nodded, not knowing where she was going with it.

"We took samples, ran it trough, and it seemed to be a rough formula for the super serum Captain Rogers has.."

Natasha froze. She heard legends about that, about Captain America. She never had the clearance to read the files, but it explained why Clint was able to do the things he did while he was so injured.

"We lost him three times." She went on, and Natasha felt her heart sink. "He's fine now, but he's in ICU, no visitors until we know just how bad he's been affected."

Widow just nodded, not sure how to take that at all. They were trying to make a super soldier..? Out of Clint..?

"He was aggressive.." Natasha finally spoke, not a question, a statement. And the nurse nodded.

"Makes good things great, and bad things worse.. Agent Barton may be good, but he has dark in him. We can't let anyone in until we know it's safe."

She nodded, thanking the nurse before turning to leave and tell Director Fury the news.

This was all her fault. She definitely had to keep a closer eye on her partner.

* * *

She ran soft kisses along his chest, smirking slightly at the soft chuckle that ripped through it.

"I'm sick.. We can't play.." He whispered to her, his arm tightening around her.

"I'm not trying to play, you idiot." She laughed, nuzzling his shoulder a little.

The memory of that mission had her a little on edge now. It took him a month to calm down enough to be released that time. And since then, she had kept a pretty close eye on him. Even the time before New York when they were on separate missions, she'd have Phil call in and tell her how the archer was.

"Do you remember much from Khost?" She whispered, trailing a finger along the shape of his abs. She felt him tense.

"Way to kill a mood.. Not really.." He replied quietly, she didn't want to bring him down, but it was a question she never asked. "You running off, the horrible pain of that tracker, Ryan's body, then a month of hell."

"You were such an ass on that serum." She growled softly, kissing his chest once more to calm him. "Pretty sure you made at least ten doctors quit.. And gave another ten concussions."

"Not my fault." He chuckled, pinching her arm gently to get her to shut up. "I don't know how Rogers handled that stuff."

"His was the proper one, yours was a shitty attempt at it."

Silence then. Though not uncomfortable, never uncomfortable, just silence.

"I love you, Tash.." He whispered after a while, and she grinned a little.

She sat up properly and took his face in both of hers, leaning in to give him a soft kiss. She'd never get sick of hearing him say that.

"Love you too, Clint.."

This was DEFINITELY the best way of keeping an eye on her partner.


	3. Chapter 3

Last one me thinks! Me thinks.. Yeah.. I think this is the last chapter in my document..

Thanks for the love!

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Disclaimer; Nope! No owning of Marvel or anything to do with it for me!

* * *

The pop of stiff joints were what greeted his ears when he stretched, giving a content sigh at the feeling.

Feeling a weight on his chest, he glanced down.

The sight made him grin. Natasha was still wrapped around him, head and hair on his chest, arm around his waist, and the slow steady rise and fall of her own chest showed that she was fast asleep.

All day yesterday she stayed in bed with him, only leaving him a moment to go get the Chinese food from the delivery guy.

She didn't have to do these things, didn't have to stay by him, didn't have to wear herself out nursing him back to health. Didn't have to make him feel like the luckiest most loved guy in the world. But she did.

She did because she wanted to, not because he asked. He always did the opposite of asking for help actually, always played it off like nothing was wrong so she wouldn't feel obliged to help him.

She did it because they were partners, she did it because they're the only one the other can trust. She did it because she's good at it, because she knows what helps him and what makes things worse.

He knew now, she always does it because she loves him.

A grin spread across his face as that thought, and he can't help but place a soft kiss on the top of her head.

Carefully, so as not to disturb her (which was definitely no easy task!), he shifted his weight so she was lying on the bed instead of on him. Once the blanket was pulled up over her, a soft kiss placed on her temple, and a fresh shirt put on him, he went out to make the woman he loved a nice breakfast.

She still never did answer his proposal properly. It didn't annoy him at all, but it was still just up in the air. That had been a while ago that the words blurted out of his mouth and neither of them ever brought it up again.

He was starting to wonder if she had forgotten about it, but he knew far too well from arguments or cheap shots in a session that Natasha Romanoff never forgot!

He seriously wanted her as a wife though.. It sounds sentimental as hell, and even a little out of character for a spy to be thinking of stuff so trivial and so common, but the title was something personal, something that would last, something that he could look back on when he was 70 and say 'That was definitely the best mission I ever took.'

"Damn.." He laughed, shaking his head of the cheesy thought as he mixed up some pancakes. She'd beat his ass if she knew he was thinking such sappy things!

Still though, the thought of being married was one that always had him happy.

He smiled a little sadly at the batter in the bowl, the memory of one of the first times he had the pleasure of calling Natasha Romanoff his wife crossing his mind..

* * *

_"What d'ya think about it?" He asked with a confused frown, watching as his hands fumbled with a dickie bow around his collar. He hated suits, so he really hated tuxes, but if they were to play the part, he had to wear this one!_

_"Seems simple enough." She replied calmly, and he looked up at her as she opened up some sort of make up container._

_"Geez, don't act too excited about it." He teased with a smirk, and Natasha just shrugged, finishing the last touch of her make-up in the mirror sitting on the table she was at._

_Aster and Julia Rosewood. Pompous sounding?_

_Good! They're supposed to!_

_This wasn't their usual mission type. Barton felt a little out of place. There was a threat made a while ago that at this summit there would be a terrorist attack. Naturally, it spiked Fury's interest, so his ever favourite team was sent in to play security and spy._

_Their covers? Well, it was an investment summit, some big shot wants to open a chain of hotels or something so billionaires from all around the world are here to see if it peaks their interest._

_Enter Aster Rosewood. If one of there snooty patooty idiots were to learn to use Google or ask their servants to use it for them, a page of the self made billionaire would pop up. One good thing Fury gained by having Tony Stark and the US Military now on his side? Stark has agreed to allow use of his business in undercover work. Not that they needed permission, but it's nice to have it! _

_So, to peak the interest of any terrorists among the group, Aster Rosewood worked as a simple engineer in the company, before he made his billions by investing his pay cheque in Stark Industries the afternoon before it hit it's highest point. When Stark Industries went on the good side, good ol' Aster boy struck by taking over the weapons manufacturing for the US Military._

_The guy seems to have good luck! None more so than when it comes to Julia Rosewood._

_Julia Rosewood was simple, no page on her other than the mentions in Aster's page. Why? Because if she was also some big shot then there'd be eyebrows raised and holes poked through. She was to be a simple small town girl, high school sweetheart of the billionaire._

_She was the rich one the last time, so it was his turn!_

_So, why was this lucky? Because she just so happened to be Aster's wife. I know, right!? Majorly lucky guy!_

_"Well Na-" He started when she stepped from the bathroom in a long navy evening gown, but he stopped when she put her hand up._

_She glanced around before slowly signing, he could barely make it out because of how much she was hiding her hands. He got the gist though. 'There's a buzz. We may be bugged. Keep your mouth shut.'_

_He nodded in understanding, slipping the wedding ring onto his finger before offering her his hand. He couldn't hear a buzz at all, but his aids often made him miss things like that. He could hear a lot of things with them, better than ever before, but mechanical sounds escaped him and it often landed him in some trouble._

_"My dear wife, shall we?" He asked with the most charming smile he could muster, and she just took his hand with a sweet smile of her own._

_Camera's then. She wouldn't smile if they were just bugs. She'd roll her eyes and refuse his hand._

_"Looking forward to it." She replied sweetly, leading him from the room. It scared him sometimes, how the cold and calculating assassin could so easily slip into a girly cover in a heartbeat._

_For him, it was easy. He never acted like a killer in the first place. He was always the joker, the idiot, so it was simple for him to act like it when undercover._

_Who knows? Maybe Natasha really is sweet and her coldness is a cover so when she goes undercover it's not actually undercover.. Oh lord that just confused him!_

_"What's that face for?" She asked through a little laugh when in the elevator, and he just smiled at her._

_He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, leaning in so he could whisper in her ear. He knew she'd kill him later, but he couldn't resist the whole newly wed stuff!_

_"Gotta play the part.." He whispered, one of her hands resting gently on his chest. That threw him a little. Since she found out he lost his hearing she's been un-characteristically nice to him. It made him love her a little too much. "So I may have been thinking about our wedding night, my love.."_

_He laughed as she pushed him away, taking her hand though to lead her out of the elevator and to the dining hall._

_All of this was way too fancy for him. They weren't outside the US this time, thankfully. They were in New York for this, the Waldorf Hotel of all places!_

_When he was in the circus, he used to pass the place from time to time. His brother would always turn to him and say that one day they'd spend a week in one of the rooms. One day, they could own the place. One day they'd have enough money to spend the rest of their lives in a place like this._

_It never happened, of course. Shit got a little mental between them, and the times Barton was on his own he was never brave enough to try go in. They didn't really want a torn clothed no good archer ruining their image._

_"Everything ok?" She whispered beside him, and he glanced at her to see worried eyes. He must have had some face on him to earn that look._

_He smiled at her and nodded, leaning in to kiss her cheek before leading her through the tables to find their own._

_And so began the most boring night of Clint's life.._

_Like seriously.._

_If SHIELD wasn't paying for all their drinks right now, then he'd be gone!_

_There wasn't even a trace of any terrorists. No one showing up on his radar, no names being dropped, nothing. Their table was filled with old guys going on and on about what they invested their money in and how they screwed the average Joe over to triple it._

_It made Clint sick._

_He glanced at his tightly clenched hand when a soft one was placed ontop of it, looking up then to see Natasha smiling at him. "Aster, darling, care for a dance?"_

_He smiled at the sweetness in her voice. He could get used to that!_

_He took her hand in his and brought it up for a kiss, excusing himself to the asshole he was talking to and leading her to the dance floor._

_They easily fell into a dancing position, his right hand taking her left and his left arm wrapping around her waist._

_"I know it bothers you." She whispered with a slight smile, and he knew exactly what she was talking about._

_"They just don't give a shit." He growled, carefully dancing around the floor with her, far enough away from people so they wouldn't be over heard. "How can they throw away money so easily when there are people living on the street.."_

_"You're just saying that cause you were one of those people." She said softly, pulling back a little to look at him. "Relax. It's all ok. Keep your eyes on the mission, ok?"_

_"I always do." He smiled, giving her a soft kiss then._

_They were supposed to be newly weds, and haven't kissed once this whole evening. Their covers would so be blown if anyone was actually paying attention! He was happy to do so though! Even if he was terrified she'd rip his balls off!_

_"I think it was just an empty threat.." She sighed softly, her head nuzzling his shoulder a little since she let it rest there during the dance. "Those glasses picking up anything?"_

_"Zero." He sighed, no one in the place matched any facial recognition scans in his lenses. And SHIELD had facial recognition of every terrorist in the world, even those some governments never even heard a whisper about._

_A sigh escaped her lips, and he smiled a little to himself. She was getting annoyed but she couldn't act it because it would blow her calm cover._

_"Then who the hell would have a camera in our room..?" She whispered in his ear, his breath catching as she kissed behind it softly._

_Just playing a part, Barton. Whispering sweet nothings in her new husband's ear. That was all. Dammit, calm down._

_"Haven't a clue.." He whispered back, moving his hand so both of his arms were now around her waist. He felt himself lose the little bit of control he still somewhat had as he pulled her closer against him, but he really didn't seem to care at all._

_"Excuse me, sir.." That damn voice.. It was that old geezer Clint wanted to punch in the face. . He pulled back from his wife anyway, and smiled at the guy. "Do you mind if I cut in?"_

_He really did mind. Like seriously. Like if he could tell the guy to fuck off, it would have been done before the words even left his mouth._

_But he didn't. He wasn't Clint for once. So, Aster politely smiled and pulled away from his wife, giving her hand a soft kiss before offering it to the guy who wanted to dance with her._

_Natasha would so kill him!_

_"Do mind her please. Only one I've got!" Clint grinned, feeling the 'I'm going to strangle you later' vibe coming from his partner._

_The old guy laughed and nodded at the comment though. "Of course! Won't find one like it anywhere else!"_

_"Eyes open." Clint whispered to Natasha's ear, giving her a soft kiss on the lips then before heading over to the bar._

_God her lips were so damn addictive.._

_He already wanted to grab her away from the guy and run away to some secret place.._

_Mission, Barton! Mission!_

_He shook his head clear of the thoughts and leaned against the bar, waiting for his pint to be pulled. Billionaire shouldn't be drinking such common drinks, but she had him driven a little mad so he really needed some good ol' classic alcohol._

_He watched the two dancing curiously. They were having some conversation, but this was one of the times neither Clint nor Natasha had their comms in. Would have looked a little too suspicious. But dammit this was a time he definitely needed them!_

_Halfway through the pint, the song ended, and the pair broke away. She didn't look too impressed as they passed through the crowd towards the archer, though that was expected, she rarely liked dancing, not let alone with a complete stranger!_

_"Aster, sweetie.." She started when close enough, and he instantly knew something was up. "Roland here suggested we go back to our room for a drink. He's interested in our business."_

_Our._

_Not your.._

_Our.._

_Well shit.._

_"Sounds great." Barton smiled, taking Natasha's hand in his own before downing the last of his pint with his other. "Follow us then."_

_Shit shit shit.._

_That's all that was going through his head all the way up in the elevator and to their room._

_Luckily, Natasha was a little more calm so she took up the job of talking with Roland._

_"So, Mr. Rosewood.." Roland started with a smile as Clint opened the door, but he never got to hear the end of the sentence._

_He fought back for a moment, lashed out at whoever it was that was trying to grab him. He faintly head Natasha do the same, but as the worry for her spread through his body, and he turned to see what they were doing to her, he was distracted enough for something to be jabbed into his neck._

_As the world went black, one thing swam through his mid._

_Shit._

* * *

_"Coming back to me, sweetheart?"_

_Sweetheart..?_

_It was usually said in the most patronising way possible. Normally when he'd be flat out on his back on some training mats or when he'd be getting a scolding for fucking something up on a mission._

_He hated how the former seemed to happen more often than not._

_This was different though. The voice calling him by such a personal term of endearment was soft, worried._

_He recognised the voice alright, just not the tone._

_Something must be wrong._

_"What's going on..?" He rasped out, coughing a little then. Something was in his system. Something was making him sluggish, slow. Something made it so he couldn't form sentences in his head, and definitely couldn't get them down to his mouth._

_Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes peeked open._

_Before him lay a sight he never liked seeing. The worried face of one Natasha Romanoff._

_"Ta.." He started, but the quick look she gave him told him to zip it._

_"Oh, thank goodness Aster! I was really starting to worry!"_

_Aster?_

_Oh.. So they haven't been compromised at all.._

_He took a quick glance around the room. His mind may have been pretty hazy but his eyes still caught everything._

_Natasha was right infront of him, tied to a chair. Either she was drugged up on whatever had his whole body feeling like lead, or she was playing defenceless wife-of-billionaire, because she wasn't struggling even a little._

_He had a horrible gut feeling it was the former._

_Two guards sat lazily in the hotel room corner, just having some cigars and playing some cards. He hated cigar smoke. Brought back some horrible memories that really didn't help make a tricky situation like this better._

_He couldn't feel any part of his body right now, just felt like he was floating really. But he'd bet whatever he had that he was tied to whatever he was sitting on just like Romanoff._

_She had a fat lip right now and he couldn't help but frown at it._

_"We're fine." She reassured in a whisper, the slightest of smiles on her face._

_He knew she wasn't talking about Aster and Julia Rosewood._

_No._

_She was talking about Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff._

_Their covers were intact._

_The mission was still on._

_Though that brought a new form of dread._

_What beef did these guys have with Mr. Business man Aster..?_

_"Sleeping Beauty finally up?"_

_His head looked over to the voice, one of the tuxed out guards was making his way over._

_That damn cigar.._

_He couldn't stop his eyes going slightly wide at the sight of it._

_"Boss is just going to get some paperwork in order. Should be back in no time._

_The sly grin on the asshole made Clint dread what paperwork was being got._

_"We was told to keep yous companys though." The other guard piped in, not as soft spoken nor as grammatically wise as his counter part it would seem! The thick Bronx accent made it that bit more difficult to make out his words._

_Clint and Natasha both kept their mouth shut. The two idiots were looking quite smug, Clint figured they thought they had sufficiently scared the newly weds._

_Really though, Barton was in the middle of plotting each way to kill their captors and leave with no one the wiser. And he just knew his partner was doing the same._

_It wasn't a long lived silence in the room though. Soon enough, the guards snapped to attention as the old man they brought up here earlier stepped into the room._

_"Sorry about this, Mr. Rosewood." Roland said with an actual sorry smile, kneeling down infront of Clint to look him in the eye. "Just business, you understand, right?"_

_Business..? He didn't know much about this Roland guy, but it would seem the duo of SHIELD agents stumbled upon something a little more serious than a terror attack._

_Dammit.. The stench of whiskey on his breath.. And cigar smoke.. You're not 5 Barton! Snap out of it!_

_"Business, huh..?" Barton croaked out, finding himself glaring at the man infront of him._

_"Well, sometimes people aren't so willing to sign over what I want.." He pouted, and Clint found himself fearing what he was getting at. "At first, I'd ask.. But then I found a much more fun and simple way to get things.."_

_"You call this fun?" Clint said with a dry laugh, and Roland just grinned and patted the archer's cheek._

_"Not for you, no.." Damn.. The guy was smiling, he looked like the happy jolly grandfather that kids would run and play with. The kind of guy who'd sit at a bar and buy you a drink._

_But those eyes.._

_They held more evil and darkness than even the most hardened criminal he'd ever come across._

_The man nodded to the guards still standing behind Clint as he stood up and pulled some papers from the envelope in his hands._

_He could hear some shuffling before he caught the sight of one of the guards walking towards Natasha, a needle in his hand with a substantial amount of liquid inside. He tried struggle against his bindings to get to her, but felt the tip of a needle against his neck in moments._

_She was definitely worse off than he was._

_She wasn't even moving, just looking at Clint with those eyes saying the same thing he heard a billion times before._

_"We're fucked."_

_She was probably given double or even triple whatever was running through his system right now. He'd bet everything that she put up one hell of a fight and probably took someone out before being jabbed._

_He didn't look at her too long though, turning his glare pretty quickly onto Roland who was setting things up on a table in the corner._

_"Latrodectus.. Rarely fatal. I came across is once during a hike in the woods. Got bitten, and went through hell for about a week.." He started, and Clint's heart immediately sank. Dammit, if that's what's in the vial held at both their necks right now.. And the smirk Roland held when he turned around told the archer that it was._

_"Muscle pain, abdominal cramps, sweats, my heart felt like it would pop right out of my chest.. Oh and the spasms, my lord, they went on forever and would leave me bed bound for days.. That was only a little bite. So, I thought to myself, what if I could concentrate the venom, add a little touch here and there, and use that to my advantage..?"_

_Dammit all.._

_Latrodectus.. Where had he heard that before..?_

_A bite.. So a snake..? No, none he heard of.._

_Then it hit him. It hit him when he heard a soft laugh coming from the Latrodectus sitting across from him._

_"Black Widow's, huh?" Clint said through a slight laugh, and Roland nodded with a sly grin to match. "Yeah, they can be bitches alright.."_

_For some reason, this calmed him. It shouldn't have, they were both in a horrible situation. Widow's venom rarely killed at all, but the odd time it definitely did and in a slow and painful way. These syringes were full of the liquid, usually the dose that kills is three or four drops of the spiders venom. They'd be dead within an hour if this happened._

_Not the first time he's been facing death at the hand of a widow.._

_"Oh they can be! Yes, indeed!" The older gentleman was back, the one that was all smiley and would buy a drink all night for you. It scared Clint a little how quickly he could swap from one persona to another in an instant. "So, I suggest, you sign this contract for me. Forfeit your company, and 90 per cent of whatever your bank account currently holds to me."_

_Damn this guy doesn't play around.._

_Well, this looks bad alright.._

_Though, was it really?_

_He could just sign over the company. There'd be no problem with that. Sign over a fake company, let the guy think he's won, get the hell out of here, track the bastards down, have them by tomorrow, and have a nice little interrogation of them with his own favourite Black Widow._

_Seems simple enough!_

_"Promise you'll let us go?" Clint asked with a sigh, trying to make it seem like it was the most difficult decision he's ever made._

_"Scouts honour." Roland said with a grin, nodding to the guard who then proceeded to untie Clint and drag him to his feet._

_The guards and the asshole would be knocked out right now if Barton didn't need help to even simply walk to the table._

_He glanced at Natasha and frowned a little bit, she didn't look so hot right now.. Just sign this Barton and get her out of here!_

_A SHIELD team should be on the way to the alley behind the building soon anyway.. It's their pick up point for the end of the party. He just has to make it there.._

_"You're a smart man, Mr. Rosewood.." Roland grinned as he handed Clint the pen, which he struggled to grip and doubly struggled to write with. "Usually have to kill the wife before the man agrees to save his ass.."_

_"Love my wife a little too much for that.." Clint growled, glancing over his shoulder at Natasha before looking back to the contact. He signed and initialled everywhere Aster had to before dropping the pen._

_"That's sweet.." Rolland said with what Clint thought was a genuine smile, but then it turned pretty evil pretty quick. "One last thing though.. I was never a scout.."_

_He didn't have a chance to ask the asshole what he meant by that, because, well, he got his answer in the form of a pinching in his neck then the most intense searing pain he's ever felt in his life._

_There was a scream as he fell to his knees, and he instantly looked to Natasha who had a needle in her neck aswell._

_Though she had no pain on her face. She just had her eyes screwed shut to block out the searing pain that she was no doubt feeling too._

_She would never give the bastards the satisfaction of a sound. He knew that. She'd suffer in silence like every other mission so that they would never know that they got inside her head._

_Dammit.._

_That meant to scream came from him.._

_He could feel the venom take effect immediately. Every muscle in his body was screaming in pain, searing white hot pain that would have any normal person rendered unconscious in shock in seconds._

_Good thing he wasn't any normal person!_

_He could smell the burning flesh, the familiar scent that let him know a cigar was stubbed out somewhere on his body._

_"Pleasure." He heard the muffled voice, a man, though why was it muffled? His aids couldn't have fallen out.. Dammit, concentrated venom. Senses weren't to go THIS quickly!_

_He tried lift his head from the floor and did just in time to see him walk towards Natasha, a guard definitely. He was in black so definitely not the main guy._

_He was suddenly five again.. Watching as a man went over threateningly to a defenceless woman._

_He had come home drunk again, he always shouted for her to go to bed if he was drunk. It would always wake Clint and the sound of a fist making contact with skin would always draw the boy from his bed and to the rickety old stairs to see what was going on. They'd give him nightmares, the sights he'd see. Things even adults shouldn't see. But mother was afraid of father, at least afraid enough not to leave him and take Clint and Barney with her. So she always suffered in silence and he always watched on, not fully understanding what was happening._

_He never understood why dad's breath stank of that horrible drink when he'd beat him. Never understood why the cigars always had to be put out of his young arm instead of in the ashtray. He just never understood why someone would do things like that._

_He understood now though. He understood a man was abusing his power over a weak woman. He understood that something unjust was happening. He understood that the sound of a fist hitting flesh shouldn't be heard. He understood now. And he was strong enough to something._

_He wasn't a weak five year old anymore._

_He wouldn't sit back and watch a woman he loved hurt like he did back then._

_They weren't armed, he knew that, so with new found clarity and adrenaline, he lunged._

_The guard went down easy enough, the unexpected tackle sending him down in seconds with Clint straddling ontop of him. His neck was snapped before his buddy could pull the archer off._

_This was simple to get out of. They didn't seem to expect someone who knew how to fight, so obviously Roland just hired any ol' big guys in his company to act threatening. Because a real guard wouldn't hold someone attacking by the shoulders._

_In an instant, Clint had jumped over the guys shoulder and had him crumpling to the ground with a broken neck before he could even turn around._

_Two down._

_The third wasn't going to be as quick.._

_Barton tuned and smirked at the currently-shitting-himself Roland, advancing oh so slightly as the older man tried back away towards the door._

_"But.. No.." He stammered, and Clint raised an eyebrow in question. "You should be like her.. You should be on deaths door, Mr. Rosewood.."_

_Clint just smirked a little more, in one swift movement he held Roland up against the door by his throat._

_"Clint Barton. Natasha Romanoff." Barton growled through his smirk, the mans eyes looking terrified but he doubted the idiot knew about those names, it was more than likely because Clint was currently choking the life out of him. "Little deadly duo from SHIELD known as Hawkeye and Black Widow.."_

_He released the man after a swift punch to the stomach, letting him crumple to the ground._

_He wouldn't kill him._

_No._

_He'd leave him to answer to Natasha in interrogation when they got out of here._

_But, he'd have a little fun._

_"Never heard.." He tried huff out, but soon yelped as Barton kicked him onto his back. In an instant, Hawkeye was on top of the man, pinning him down so he could have some fun._

_"Well now you have.." Clint smirked, a punch to the face following. "And I assure you.."_

_Another punch._

_"You'll regret touching her.."_

_He let loose then. Everything releasing from his body as he let go a flurry of punches. He didn't let up, didn't pause for a breath. Even when the man fell unconscious, Clint continued with his beat down._

_"Clint.."_

_He paused mid punch, fist still clenched as he listened to see if he was just hearing things._

_Her tone was so weak, so unlike the strong confident bitchy woman he had partnered with for so many years, that it just wasn't possible._

_"Hawk.. Clint.. Just stop.."_

_Dammit, it was her.._

_No one else called him Hawk.._

_He looked to Natasha and saw her barely awake, head slumped over as her body shook. Dammit the venom was getting to her.._

_He jumped up from the man, not even checking to see if he was still alive, too worried now about his partner to worry about the jackass on the floor._

_"I'm sorry Nat.. Just hang on.." He whispered, behind the woman now as he untied her. Adrenaline still had him buzzing. He'd come down eventually._

_And when he did, he knew he'd be a goner._

_Before that happens, he had to get her to safety. She still had a chance._

_"The alley.." She slurred as he lifted her up bridal style, leaving the room and running to the fire exit to get down to it._

_"I know.. Just stay with me another half hour.. Then they'll be there." He called back, loudly, not a whisper. He had to keep her awake. Otherwise, it wouldn't matter who showed up._

_She stayed quiet._

_"Come on, you have to train me next week!" He said with as best a smile he could, his breathing dangerously hard as he took the steps two at a time._

_Dammit adrenaline, get back here!_

_"And we have that mission in Taiwan tomorrow.." He continued, though as he neared the exit to the alley he felt the little energy he had slipping._

_"Don't think so.." She replied weakly, though he was just overjoyed she replied at all!_

_"We do.. I have the arrows for it already.." He tried chuckle, falling down with her and sitting against the wall as he did._

_He could feel his heart beginning to race, and his eyes grow heavy, but he couldn't give in. Not yet._

_He held her close against him, watching as she struggled to keep her own eyes open._

_"Nat.. Don't go, ok..?" He whispered frantically, her body starting to shake that little bit harder. "I can't find another partner.. They're all scared of me.."_

_"They a-all sick of you.." She tried smile, and it broke his heart more than this damn thumping was._

_Her eyes didn't open the next time though, and she didn't follow up with whatever witty comment was bound to follow._

_"Nat no.. Natasha.." He said with wide eyes, shaking her a little to try wake her up. "No no.. Romanoff, wake up!"_

_Dammit, he couldn't lose her like this!_

_He couldn't.._

_Something thumped extra hard in his chest, and he would bet you anything that it wasn't because of the venom running through his veins._

_He'd kill her if she died like this!_

_Not in some shit hole alley! Not by some greedy business man! Not like this, not like this at all! Not in anything less than the most amazing fight ever witnessed!_

_"Please.." He whispered to her one last time, though one last shock wave of pain sent him into the world he'd no doubt meet his partner in._

* * *

_The headache was BAD!_

_Did she try drink vodka with Clint again?_

_Damn, vodka never agrees with her, she should have known that!_

_It was one of those headaches that had even your eyes thumping, you know that one?_

_Her mouth was on fire aswell. Definitely vodka!_

_That would mean if she rolled over, she'd hit the shoulder of her partner. They always wound up sleeping in the same bed after these kind of nights. Mostly because she's always worried he'd get in trouble with someone on the way home and he'd always insist on walking her home like a gentleman that he isn't._

_Her limbs were heavy though. She tried lift her hand and groaned in pain. Damn, what were they up to..?_

_"Romanoff..?"_

_...Not Clint._

_Definitely not Clint._

_They never spoke the morning's he woke up in her bed._

_He'd just make her breakfast and leave._

_"Natasha, can you hear me?" Coulson. That worried voice is something she'd always know, regardless of hangover!_

_Wait.. No.. Not a hangover._

_If Coulson's here then it's not a hangover.._

_Shit, what mission did they fuck up this time?_

_"Yeah.." Was all she could manage, her mouth way too dry to say much else._

_Slowly, she pulled her eyes open, a dimly lit room meeting her sight. There was a bit of soft light coming through the window, either day break or sun set._

_She rolled her head to see Coulson sitting by her bedside, that smile on, that 'Everything's ok even though it's not but whatevs I'm not gonna tell you it's not!' smile he always has when something went seriously wrong._

_She wasn't lying down, which was a good sign, meant that either she was ok enough not to be in emergency crash position or she was awake a little before hand and they sat her up._

_No tubes or wires from what she could see, not even an oxygen feed._

_"We were just waiting for you to wake.. You're fine.." Coulson answered her unasked question as he handed her a cup of water, which she sipped from. She wasn't stupid, her mouth told her she's been out a while, so she'd have to sip or get sick._

_"Stomach need pumping? I know I drink alot, but.."_

_She didn't finish her sentence._

_No, it wasn't drink related._

_She was fine now, but no._

_They were poisoned._

_Bad._

_Venom._

_Damn Black Widow venom!_

_She should be dead!_

_They should be dead!_

_Wait.._

_You're fine.._

_You're.._

_She looked at Phil with slightly wide eyes, everything rushing back to her._

_Clint got them out._

_Clint killed two guys, probably three! She didn't see the last guy moving!_

_Clint got burned, the guard stabbed him and he didn't even seem to notice! He had the same poison that ran through her and he still got them out!_

_But Phil didn't say "You two idiots are fine!" or "Y'look better than Barton at least!" like he usually does!_

_"Where's Clint? Phil, where's Barton!?"_

_"Relax!" Coulson said with a worried frown, and she only realised then that her breathing hitched to dangerous levels. "He's down the hall. Don't worry!"_

_Her shoulders sagged a little at his words, her attention turning to the cup of water in her hands._

_"And..?" She whispered, knowing that it was bad._

_"And he's there.." Coulson whispered back after a while, and she knew it was all he could think to say. "It's been a little over a week.. We found the two of you in the alley just about gone.. Even then though, he just wouldn't release you."_

_Despite herself and the situation, she couldn't help the smile creeping onto her face. Even near death, he was protecting her._

_"You were fine actually.. We got the anti venom into you once we figured out what it was and you responded well. No lasting effects, not much damage, though I bet you have a killer headache."_

_She just laughed and nodded, even his soft spoken voice was sending throbs through her head. She couldn't look at him really, didn't want to see his face right now, because the tone was enough to tell her that she got lucky, and Barton didn't._

_"Clint had it bad.. Just wouldn't respond to the anti venom." Of course he wouldn't.. Why would he make things simple?_

_She could hear Phil give a sigh after a moment or two, obviously trying to find either the courage or words for the next part._

_"We lost him a few times.. Got him back eventually, and yesterday he was finally moved from ICU to the ward.. He should be fine in time."_

_She stayed quiet, as did Coulson. They were friends, he was her handler so they were able to sit in silence comfortably._

_She just needed to process everything. Just needed time. The light in the room just got less and less so she knew then it was night time, not early morning._

_A half hour passed before Coulson cleared his throat._

_"Fury and I spoke this morning.."_

_That's never a good thing.._

_"We're splitting up the team for a while.."_

_Her eyes went a little wide at that, and she finally looked to the older man sitting next to her._

_"You've got to be shitting me.."_

_He shook his head with a sad smile, knowing she wouldn't take this well. Barton was going to be more difficult to tell though, she knew he'd kill everyone!_

_"The two of you need time.. And we feel that missions solo for now would be best.. Simple ones."_

_"That's bullshit and you know it is!" She pretty much yelled, feeling bad though since Coulson looked like she stabbed him through the heart._

_But they were a team! Sure, back in the day she hated that she was paired with him. But they had grown to be the best damn team SHIELD had right now, grown to be friends, grown to be partners, they couldn't split them up now!_

_"I'm sorry Natasha.." He said softly, standing up then as if to make a point that he was the boss here, not her, not Clint. "He'll be sent to recover then sticking with me. As soon as you're up to it, you're going undercover in Stark Industries."_

_"He's your mission.." She said quietly, more a statement than a question, and it seemed to throw her handler off guard a little. "I don't know how he got us out either.. But he's not a lab rat."_

_"I know.." Coulson replied quietly, heading for the door then. "But something was up with him, something stopped him from just collapsing and dying in that hotel room, and I have to keep an eye on him."_

_He was gone then, leaving Natasha to her thoughts once again._

_Had she have been more vigilant that night, they wouldn't be split up. Had she have been the Black Widow, the world renowned and feared assassin then everything would be ok right now. But she wasn't. That night she was Natasha Romanoff. That night, she had let emotions get to her._

_She hadn't expected an ambush, so when her partner was knocked unconscious she let emotions get the better of her for the first time in her life and she just lost it. She lashed out rather than attacked. She threw punches rather than landed hits. She fucked up and it nearly killed him._

_She had to find him._

_Carefully, she swung her body so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She felt like lead, but that would wear off soon. Wasn't the first time this feeling was present._

_She was in some alright hospital pyjamas, not some silly gown, so she felt happy enough to just walk out of the room and down the hall._

_It was SHIELD facility, so she knew exactly what room Clint would be in._

_They always kept them side by side when the two of them would be hurt._

_The door to his room was already open, so she just walked right in and over to her partner._

_She frowned a little._

_He looked pretty alright. Lying down on the bed but his head was propped up by three pillows._

_An oxygen nose plug was attached though, as well as an IV making sure he didn't get dehydrated._

_He was pale._

_So very pale._

_It scared her. Injuries, blood, gore. Bullets, knives, arrows. She could handle all of those. Those were visible, treatable._

_Poison was another ball game._

_It was invisible, doing horrible damage to organs without anyone knowing._

_So how did he manage to escape it for so long..?_

_"Clint.." She whispered softly, but nothing from him. It would usually get some sort of movement, even just an eye twitch._

_But nothing._

_"What did they do to you..?"_

_She didn't feel right standing there. Usually she'd be sitting next to him and trading stories, or would have gotten pissed off at him and left after he said something stupid._

_This time was different._

_Carefully, she sat on the bed next to him, then lay her legs up on it, making sure not to disturb him._

_Though, as he head lay next to his, she stole a glance and realised he was still fast asleep. The steady rise and fall of his chest was all the comfort she needed right now._

_She took his hand in hers then, frowning at the scrapes and cuts on them from when he beat the guy senseless. She didn't know if he got away or not, but she really doubted Coulson would have let that happen!_

_She let his hand lay ontop of hers, just so she wouldn't hit off the sensitive cuts. They lay on her lap as her other hand traced spirals on his wrist._

_He always looked so fragile like this. Looked so much like a little kid that needed protecting. She was always more than willing to do so._

_That's what partners do._

_Time passed on, and she still didn't move. She just stayed there, watching her partners peaceful face._

_When a flash of lightening lit the room up though she drew her attention to the window for a moment. Rain pattered against the window softly, that and his breathing being the only sound until the crack of thunder finally sounded._

_"Tash.." It was soft, but it was there, and she instantly looked back to her partner._

_His eyes weren't open, but his face was turned slightly towards hers and was no longer peaceful, it was kind of anguished. From what kind of pain, she just couldn't tell._

_She just gave a sad smile and stroked the back of his hand with her fingers._

_The one sentence that always soothed them after a mission gone wrong soon escaped her lips to try relax him._

_"Relax Hawk.. I got first watch.."_

* * *

The sound of the soft rain from that night was what woke her in the morning.

She gave a happy sigh and stretched herself out, letting her arms fall against the mattress to spread herself out.

She loved rainy days when there was nothing that had to be done.

She could get a fire going and just relax with a cup of cocoa..

Wait..

Where's he gone? They couldn't have released him yet and he definitely couldn't be walking!

She sat bolt upright and scanned the room, a confused look soon on her face when she realised she wasn't in a hospital room.

Just a dream, Natasha..

Clint's fine..

He got through that hell just fine..

Faced alot worse after it, but he was still fine.

And judging by the smell that was filling the place, he was fine enough to make some pancakes!

She got herself up out of bed with a little groan, her body stiff from spending all of yesterday on the mattress. He needed minding though, so she'd do it all again if she had to!

After making sure she wasn't looking like too much of a monster in the mirror, she left the room to go find her boyfriend.

Sure enough, she found the one and only Hawkeye sipping from some coffee at the counter in the kitchen, two plates of pancakes sitting at the table. It seemed like he was waiting for her.

"Good morning!" He greeted with a cheery smile, pushing himself away from the counter to go and give her a quick kiss. "Breakfast for m'lady!"

"Someone slept well." She smiled, patting his cheek gently before going to get herself a cup of coffee. Clint went to sit at the table while she did that.

"Well I did have quite a beautiful woman by my side.." He replied with a cheeky grin, and she had to roll her eyes.

She hated him sometimes.

They settled down to eat in silence, nothing needing to be said between them any more.

They never had to explain anything or try make conversation.

They were perfectly happy just being in each others company.

As she watched Clint read the paper, some pancakes constantly in his mouth as he did so, she realised that she loved him even in these moment.

In the moments where he wasn't trying to show love, the moments where he was being completely un-charming, she still loved him.

She couldn't imagine a time now when she wouldn't love him.

She could get used to this..

"Clint.." She said softly, and he looked to her with an eyebrow raised.

She gave him a little smile and reached over to wipe a little syrup from the corner of his mouth.

She wanted this every morning.

She wanted him being across from her every morning, syrup faced and all.

She didn't want anything less than what they had right now.

She didn't want anything less than the love they had right now.

They fought a long and difficult road to get here. They shouldn't be here at all, but they are, and she can't let that slip by just because she's stubborn.

She loves him. She loves him more than anything in the world. She can't lose him, she had to keep him.

"About that proposal.."


	4. NOTE

I know, not what you wanted to see in a chapter!

But yeah, I do want to continue this series, don't get me wrong!

Just gotta give me a while though because I now have ideas that I just have to wait for Age of Ultron to complete!

But trust me, there'll be more Clintasha!

Lots more!

Cause I have WAY too many stories in mind to give up now!

I know I gotta write more, I know, just tricky in my final year of college to find the time to! So I scribble in notebooks while in lectures and, I'm sure you can tell, it takes a while to transcribe!

So, ignore my little note in the previous chapter, there will be one more chapter in order to set up my next story!

Just gotta make sure I don't ruin AOU for people so y'all gotta wait a while!

May have another story up in the mean time, just wait and see and be patient with me!

Lots and lots of love to you all! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Just got back from a 22 hour long Marvel Marathon in my local theatre. It was long but awesome! Age of Ultron is just perfect lads. It's kinda made it ok for me to post this chapter, I think! But yeah! That's all I'll say on the matter!

Reviews!

WitBeyondMeasure23; I thank you for your kind words! This will be the definite last chapter of this story, but more will follow!

kamarooka; I kinda wanna print your review into a sticker and have it with me for everything cause it'll work for everything! Thank you, glad you enjoyed :)

ilikehats2; Shhh! You're giving things away so you are! Last chapter of this, but hopefully during the summer, after the majority of people have seen Age of Ultron so it won't be spoilers, I could write more!

discordchick; My dear friend, you and I are in the same boat! I know the movies no longer support cannon Clintasha, it was clear from the first trailer that it was going to be that way, but why would that stop me writing these two together? It has put a bit of a bump in the works, and I feel like people may give up on the idea alright, but I have a number of ideas around it, all will be revealed in this chapter, so don't you worry! Y'see, after this little fic, I won't be following the movies too much anyway! Just random little stories that pop into my head that, so far, have nothing to do with any of the movies, so it doesn't matter!

Last thing! IMPORTANT THING! Lads, gimmie some ideas. My tank may be running dry but I wanna keep writing!

ENJOY! LOVE YAS!

DISCLAIMER! DON'T OWN ANYTHING TO DO WITH MARVEL!

* * *

The wind gently tussled his hair as he looked out over the picturesque landscape.

For someone with bang on eyesight, it was honestly the best place he could be right now.

Rough few months.

Rough few years.

But he was a soldier, a fighter, so he'd come out the other side un-harmed.

He sighed gently and wiped the sweat from his brow. It was the hottest day of the year but still he was out in the garden cutting some fire wood.

Standing once more, he grabbed the axe and swung, splitting the log in two pieces before repeating the process again.

He couldn't escape things. He didn't know why he could in all fairness.

He never could.

He was a spy, an agent, he was an Avenger, so why did he think he'd be able to escape all of that?

He laughed humourlessly to himself as he swung the axe once again. Maybe he thought he could because the last time he nearly did..

* * *

The rain had him soaked. It had been coming down all day. But he was in the office block all day so this was the first he's been out in it.

He was getting some looks, mainly because he was just in a hoodie, no umbrella, and for one, he had a smile on his face.

Yep!

He may be soaked to the skin, hair sticking to his face, but he had the biggest smile plastered on his face.

This was his six month anniversary.

Six wonderful months.

Six months of the most relaxing, most amazing time he's ever had.

It's been six months since he's left SHIELD.

Three months since he's had the call centre job, give or take.

And Clint Barton was loving every minute of it!

"Evenin' Frank!" Clint grinned as he stepped into the apartment complex, ruffling his hair to try dry it out a little like a wet dog would.

He liked Frank. He really did. He was a jolly old man. Clint had enough conversations with the man to know that he worked for nearly 40 years as a chef, but retirement pay for that is next to nothing so he had to find this night porter job to try keep his home and family afloat.

Clint felt sorry for him sometimes. 60 years old and still working. He never really had experience in the real world before now, either being in the circus or being an agent of SHIELD. He always had an abnormal life, so all of this was a first!

"Mr. Barry, you're going to catch your death!" Frank said through a slight laugh, passing Clint his mail as he passed the desk.

Clint just grinned and waved the guy off, stepping into the elevator then to head up to his apartment. Wouldn't be the first time he was about to catch death! He'd survive this one no bother!

He opened the door to his apartment and gave a happy sigh, placing the backpack down beside the door before heading off to the bedroom to change.

It wasn't much. It was a one room apartment, a small bathroom, a kitchen and a sitting area joined. He never really learned how to cook so the size of the kitchen never really bothered him, he usually just ordered whatever take out he felt like or had a microwavable dinner. Something simple.

It wasn't run down or anything, the one good thing about Fury granting him leave was that SHIELD managed to take care of him in that respect. They found him a nice little apartment in a nice part of mid town Chicago.

A bit away from what he was used to, living mainly in New York or D.C, close to the two main SHIELD bases. But he wanted different, needed different.

He loved his new job.

Hated slacks and shirts though.

Like more than anything.

And now they were wet so he really REALLY hated them!

Once out of the clothes and into a nice clean and warm set, he went out to his sitting area to relax and watch some tv.

He avoided news. Avoided any current affairs. He didn't want to know what was going on in the world because while the news said one thing, he knew SHIELD had a completely different and worst things hidden.

He just couldn't handle that anymore. He was a civilian. At least, he thought he was a civilian.

He had a job, he had an apartment, he had a rent, he had bills, he had no bow and he had no arrows. He didn't kill anyone anymore.

He didn't go infiltrate some hardened criminal's base. He didn't have to hide on rooftops for hours on end to pick off a target that may or may not show up. He didn't have to put up with annoying partners that seemed to hate everything he did.

Annoying partners.

He actually found himself missing Natasha Romanoff at times.

She kept him on his toes. Kept him on his A-game. Because there was no way he'd ever back down from her or her challenges.

Damn, maybe he gave up to her when he left..

Nope! No regretting it, Barton! You always wanted a normal life, now you have it, don't throw it away just because you want to win a stupid contest that doesn't even exist!

Before settling down to watch whatever game was on tv, he grabbed a bottle from the fridge and sat down again to relax for the evening.

This is what he wanted!

Khost got to him.

A little too much.

He was compromised in the worst possible way, both mentally and physically.

That was ten months ago. He spent a month in hospital being prodded and poked, kept in isolation since whatever that imitation serum they pumped into him had him aggressive with any little annoyance that got to him.

He thought he was better though, they thought he was better. He had physically healed.

Not mentally though.

Nine months ago was his first mission again, a simple hit, and he got it done no problem.

Eight months ago, he was with Natasha again. They had to capture a drug lord for questioning. Things got a little testy when he had a bit of a panic attack, but he was fine in no time.

Seven months ago, something cracked.

It was a basic escort mission, nothing too tricky, but the building they had to take their mark from must have reminded him too much of the one he was captured in when in Khost, so he may or may not have sent an arrow through their mark's shoulder thinking he was going to hurt him.

He was in the middle of aiming another arrow at the fallen mans skull when Romanoff stepped between the two and he snapped back to his senses.

Six and a half months ago, he was released from hospital after a mental break down, and put in for leave.

Six months ago, Coulson tried his best to talk the archer out of leaving.

But Clint Barton was compromised.

Clint Barton was broken.

Hawkeye was no more, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

So, he became James Barry. A call centre agent, moved from Iowa to look for an opportunity at being a business man. No friends, just incase. That was one major stipulation.

As Hawkeye, an agent of SHIELD, and as well as a travelling carny, he made a lot of people unhappy and had ALOT of warrants out for his head right now.

He couldn't risk getting people caught up in that.

Maybe one day, when things seem to settle out, when he knows no one's after him, maybe one day he can have that family life he wanted. Have friends over for barbecues, have kids playing in the yard while him and his wife sit in the kitchen with a cup of coffee.

For now, Mr. James Barry just had to build up a life for himself in this place.

Otherwise, the whole cover Fury made him would be a waste.

And if it was a waste, then Director Nicholas J Fury wouldn't be a happy man at all..

He didn't beg or plead when Barton went to him with the news. Clint wondered, looking back, if the man even cared he was leaving.

On a personal level, mind you. He knew all too well Fury wasn't happy at all with losing his best sharp shooter.

But there was a flaw with Barton. There was something in him that he figured no one else had in the business.

No, not the botched serum that had him fucked beyond compare.

He had a sense of humanity.

He had guilt, a lot of the time hated some of the things he had to do.

He hated taking parent from kids with the swoosh of an arrow. He seriously hated seeing the life draining from someone's eyes as they finally leave this world for whatever the hell comes next.

He was human.

He was good at what he did, he was one of the best.

But he never had spy training, never had assassin training. He was just an amazing marksman and they took him from that, honed in whatever little bit of fighting skills his elder brother thought to him, and sent him out to the field for whatever the hell they wanted.

Fury must have known that, because when Clint went to the man to resign, the older gentleman just nodded and said he'd get things sorted.

A week later, he was handed his cover, told good luck. Fury reminded him that the door was always open for Hawkeye to return whenever he felt well enough to.

Clint Barton disappeared.

Well, not quite. You might think that alright! But not quite.

On his file, stamped across in nice red ink, was the word "Terminated".

That's right, Clinton Francis 'Hawkeye' Barton had been terminated from SHIELD.

Now, one might think that means fired. In normal business circumstances, it means fired.

In SHIELD circumstances, it means fired.

The difference? Well, when you're fired from SHIELD that means you're fired from life. To have Terminated stamped across your file, you must be dead.

So he had a nice little grave out somewhere on the outskirts of New York.

Just incase SHIELD was ever raided and his file stolen, it had to look like he was no more.

He liked it there.

He went there once or twice just to see what's it like. It was always well maintained and cared for, actually looked like someone cared about him!

It's the strangest feeling, seeing your own headstone sitting infront of you.

Humbling.

Calming, some would say. He would say, actually.

The great Hawkeye never liked thinking about death. He felt immortal. Even when faced with the most harrowing and dire situations during his time with SHIELD he never thought that he WOULDN'T get out of it with his life.

Clint Barton? Well, he was different from Hawkeye. Hawkeye was his adrenaline side, his cocky side, the side that said nothing is impossible and impossible is nothing.

Clint Barton was a humble kid from Iowa just trying to find some place in the world.

And seeing his grave, seeing Hawkeye laid to rest, gave him the most peaceful feeling he could ever wish for.

Before the game was even half over, he was knocked out on the sofa, snoring away with a smile on his face.

He could count on one hand the amount of times in the past six months he's slept in his own bedroom.

Not that there was anything wrong with it.

Had a bed, a pillow, a blanket, and it was always a nice temperature.

But he always had far too deep a sleep in the thing.

A deep sleep meant dreams.

Dreams meant nightmares.

Nightmares meant screaming.

And screaming meant panic attack.

He couldn't handle that, so most nights he came home from work or from a day of jogging and training (hey, he might not be a SHIELD agent anymore, but he has to keep some sort of fitness up!), he'd settle down on the sofa with a drink, and would be out in no time at all!

It was a nice routine.

Had him sane.

Kept him sane.

Alright, fuck it, he wasn't sane, but it kept him less mad at least!

The dog barking next door was the first thing to alert him to something not right.

That dog never barked.

He was the quietest and most well behave mutt he ever came across.

So something must have spooked him well to have him going mad.

He kept his eyes shut so he could listen carefully, just incase something was a miss.

It shouldn't be, maybe their owner just gave him a fright or something. But years on the job had him edgy at any change in the normal behaviour of a place.

Sure enough, he heard it, the click of the latch as someone pried his balcony door open.

Dammit, someone found him..

Or maybe it was just a normal every day break in..

Or they found him..

Dammit, lay still..

Where's that pistol..? Under the sofa, Barton. Just reach down before they spot you..

He could tell it was late without opening his eyes.

He watched enough tv early mornings to know what the schedule was and he knew it was between 3am and 3:30am just from the sound of the presenter.

They were behind the sofa. Whoever the hell 'they' were.

He may have been six months out of practice, but years of training and experience doesn't leave a person THAT quickly!

In one swift motion, he rolled off the sofa and grabbed the pistol he kept taped beneath it.

He was paranoid, so what!? Apparently there was good reason to be!

The silencer would do the job. It wouldn't be heard!

He aimed at the intruders head, lying on the ground by the sofa on his side to get a good shot.

Two taps of the trigger, two bullets into the skull, even before the guy had a chance to turn around.

Clint waited to hear the thump of the persons body, not wanting to take any chances with things.

When he heard no more, he stood and went around the sofa to see who he just killed.

It was dark, but his eyes were always alright with that. Joys of being the infamous Hawkeye, after all.

He hunkered down on his knees to get a closer look, the person was face down on the ground so he couldn't see much other than the exit wound at the back of his head.

Carefully, he turned the intruder over so he could get a look, see if he knew the person.

As the dead weight got far enough for Barton to see the front of him, the archer froze.

This couldn't be happening..

He dropped the body and fell on his ass to scoot away.

On the mans torso was a bulletproof vest, with a symbol he's only seen in closed SHIELD dockets.

Never in person, because the organisation simply didn't exist anymore!

Barton was too in shock to hear the footsteps of someone else until it was too late.

As he turned to aim his pistol, a tazer was shot right at the archers heart, sending him down into electric induced spasms in a nanosecond.

The familiar darkness was approaching just as the jolt of electricity subsided, and he could just make out some muffled voices.

Dammit all..

There was no way this was happening.

No was this was real life.

Darkness soon took him, and the last thing he could see made him sick to his stomach.

That damn logo that should have been destroyed in the 40's..

Hydra had taken down Hawkeye.

* * *

Muffled voices.

That's all he could hear as he tried pull himself to the world of consciousness.

Hopefully this time they'd actually let him..

Each time he's tried, something would be jabbed into his neck and he'd be knocked out again.

He didn't want that again.

He needed to find out where he was, what he was dealing with, and work out a way to escape.

Even breaths, slow the heart rate, don't show emotion, don't show fear.

SHIELD interrogation training.

But, this wasn't interrogation.

They just kept knocking him out again.

So, what was this?

It appeared he had been caught, because soon after that thought had his mind going 90, a nice freezing cold bucket of water was thrown over him.

"Rise and shine sunshine!" A southern accent, he's heard it before. Maybe when he was trying to come to the past few times.

His eyes shot open as the water sprayed down his body, leaving him slightly breathless in the process.

Dammit all! He only had his thoughts gathered then they go and ruin it!

Who's they again..?

Dammit, concussion.. Too easily confused..

He looked at his grinning captor to try figure it out.

Currently, he was in the all too familiar position of being tied to a chair. The room was actually nice, seemed to be well maintained, or at least the half Barton could see was.

A light hung right above him, a tactic he learned that throws off the captive, makes them see shadows that shouldn't be there and therefore makes them doubt sanity.

There was carpet underneath, nice, red. And a desk just infront of him with a nice chair behind it, one of those fancy one's he's only ever seen in movies or tv shows.

Dammit, he was shivering now.. Why'd it have to be ice water!? Now his nerves were shot completely!

Who were these people..

He looked to his captor once more to try guess.

The guy was not much taller than Barton, though he built a lot! Simple clothes for someone who was holding someone else hostage, a shirt and some jeans. Normal face, nothing standing out about him. Brown hair with slight blond streaks. That's about it.

No one Barton recognised, so he wasn't a wanted man.

Dammit, you know this Barton..

How long has he been here? A while judging by the weakness in his muscles. He tried move his arms though they were tied behind him and did a quick guess.

About a week's muscle loss.

Dammit, no one knew he was missing..

If they did, he'd be out.

"Not one for talkin', huh?" The man chuckled, and it was only then Barton realised the guy had been talking to him through all his thoughts.

"Not really, no." He replied simply, finding the strength in his voice odd. Were they keeping him hydrated or something? No way he could go a week and still sound so fine.

"What a shame, I love to talk.." The man frowned, grabbing a spare chair before advancing on Clint.

He stayed calm as the guy sat opposite him, remembering all his training and knowing not to spill anything.

All Clint could smell was coffee off the guys breath as he leaned in close to the archer.

"Killed a good friend of mine, y'know.."

"Shouldn't have been snooping around my apartment then."

"Perhaps.." The southerner hummed in thought, surprising Clint then by giving him a solid punch to the jaw.

The guy was on point though and caught Clint by the shirt collar before he fell with the chair.

He just smiled like nothing happened then as Barton tensed his jaw to test the pain.

Clint froze, all his training gone out the window, because the guy sitting across from him was rubbing the spot he just seconds ago abused. The hell was he doing?

"But something that belonged to us was there.."

"Who's 'us'?" Clint asked as calmly as he could, annoyed at himself for not remembering.

The guy smile, and Barton's heart sank.

He knew that smile, finally placing the voice aswell.

He started shaking and the southerners smile just widened.

Khost.

That day in Khost, he was in the room for maybe five seconds just giving orders.

Hydra.

They were Hydra in the apartment.

Oh shit..

"My dear boy, you didn't really think we'd let you get away that easily, did you?"

He was speechless. For the first time in a long time words just escaped the archer entirely.

He couldn't do that again, couldn't go through that hell again, but if there was no one around to notice him gone, then who would help him..?

Wait, Barton.. They kept you out.. You're not feeling much of any pain in your jaw or in your head..

Shit shit shit..

"I will admit, I didn't think you'd last through more shots." The man grinned, patting Barton's cheek before getting up to go pour himself a drink from the little bar in the corner. "But, you seemed to handle it ok. Maybe because we finally fixed our formula.."

"You bastard.." Barton growled, jumping and pulling at his ties now to try get loose. "You can't do this to people!"

"Of course I can." He smirked, Clint figured he was finding his attempts at escape amusing from the way he was watching.

What was his name even.. He was way too proud to ask, and he didn't think he was ever told, so he was now just called Asshole in Barton's head.

"I'm trying to make you better, stronger. I'm trying to make you perfect."

"Humans aren't perfect. We have flaws. That's the whole point." Clint growled once more, finding a little give in the rope when he tugged at it once more.

It seemed like asshole was having none of it though, because he simply drew a pistol from his side and sent a bullet right into Barton's shoulder.

He hissed and shut his eyes, but wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of a scream.

"You're just about complete, so we we're gonna send you to the arena to test you out." Asshole said with a sickeningly sweet smile, like he didn't just send a bullet right into his shoulder or anything!

"What arena?" He tried growl the question, but he was losing blood a little quickly so it made him a little too weak.

Funny. He read in all the old case files that Captain America would be fine, would just patch right back up. Seems like this serum wasn't perfect, not by a long shot. Seemed to thin the blood to reduce pain rather than help cells to reduce pain.

"All of us chose different people. So, now that all of you are all supered up, it's time to fight."

Barton's heart stopped.

He had to fight someone? Why?

Was this just another innocent person that was plucked from the street because they looked like they could be supered up?

"Now, I will warn you.." Asshole started as two guards picked Barton up from the chair, still keeping his hands tied though so no matter how much he struggled he just couldn't get away. They knew his tricks. He'd usually swing up over their shoulders and have them knocked out in a nanosecond. With a bullet in the shoulder, that was impossible.

"The guy you're about to face is leading champion.. 27 and 0. But, when you beat him, the rest are noobs like yourself so it'll be fine! "

This made Barton feel more ill than anything. Because he figured that a fight between two attempted super soldiers would be to the death..

Before he knew it, his ropes were cut and he was pushed into a fighting arena, literally right outside the door of the room he was just in.

Glancing around, he could see that the high walls were topped with metal bars in a dome shape to prevent escape. He could hear chatter and cheers so he guessed there was some kind of audience up there.

Those sick people.. They probably pay to watch this thing happen..

His shoulder was killing him, literally and figuratively. He had to keep his opposite hand on the wound to try stop the bleeding as best he could. He probably wasn't the bookies favourite right now..

Another quick look revealed no weapons around. Straight up fighting then.

He wasn't left wondering about things for too long though, soon enough the opposite side of the arena's wall lifted, revealing his opponent.

He was a stocky guy, no wonder he won this thing so many times in a row. No way in hell was Barton getting out of this without a fuck tonne of broken bones and torn muscles.

He was taller than Barton, by a bit, not too much. Cropped black hair, shirtless like the archer, and in the same kind of sports shorts aswell.

Clint glanced at the newcomers eyes as he got into a fighting stance, releasing his opponent wasn't doing the same.

Something passed over his eyes that Barton knew shouldn't have been there.

Some emotion that a killer or fighter shouldn't hold.

Soon, the new comer shook his head a little and smacked his side, causing Barton to frown in confusion.

Why would he do that..?

Not long to ponder the actions of the challenge infront of him, since the man was stepping up to square off with Barton.

The crowd cheered like mad, and it almost felt like being a professional wrestler or something. Being adored for killing eachother.

Ok, wrestling wasn't THAT bad, but you get the idea!

Neither made a move.

Both just seemed to be staring eachother out of it.

He noticed the guys right foot move first, then his left hand swinging back in a fist.

This was familiar, and Clint actually found himself smirking as he ducked to avoid contact, swinging up with his right fist to try nail him on the jaw.

It was quick paced.

It was at speed.

It was fighting, something he hasn't done in SO long. But it was natural.

It was right.

This is what he was born for.

The guy avoided his upper cut by leaning back, and Clint's eyes went a little wide.

Before he even saw the knee coming up towards his chest, Barton crossed his arms over to deflect the blow, latching onto his attackers leg then to fling him away.

Stand off.

And the crowd was going mad.

They were slightly panting, eyeing eachother up a little.

But something seemed way too weird.

This was way too familiar.

Not the fighting, he knew that would feel natural.

But the style, the sequence.

Damn..

He hit his side.. Impact.. Tracker..

To test what he hoped wasn't true, Clint ran at the attacker, arms out to go for a choke.

Sure enough, the attacker grabbed onto Clint's shoulders and monkey flipped him backwards.

Expecting it, Clint landed on his feet, but quickly cursed and fell to a knee, gripping his shoulder that was now sending fresh waves of pain through his body from the contact.

His eyes were only shut a moment, but his opponent took full advantage and lunged, sending Clint to the ground.

He tried roll away but couldn't. The guy had a grip on his neck.

This wasn't why he couldn't roll away though, it was more the shock of what was going on.

He wasn't being choked.

The grip around his neck was made look hard, but it was gentle as anything.

"Agent Barton.." The guy whispered, and it caught Clint more off guard than anything so far.

"I knew it.. You are SHIELD.." He whispered back, his hands now clawing at the mans to try act for the audience. They were going mad, so they wouldn't be heard.

"Agent 23, undercover.. We gotta get you out of here.." He said back quickly, and Clint couldn't agree more!

His vision was going blurrier and blurrier by the second, he had lost way too much blood and the over exertion of combat hadn't helped.

Even if their moves were basic SHIELD training spars, it was way too much for a bullet hole to handle.

Suddenly, agent 23 rolled them over so Barton was ontop, and Clint had enough sense to realise he needed the roles reversed for a moment. So his hands went around the agent's throat the same way as before in opposite, and he called in to whoever was around this place.

"STRIKE Team; emergency evac. Bring heavy. Barton compromised, bring bow."

Those words.. He couldn't help but grin.

It had been so long since he got to play with his bow.. And he couldn't think of a better reason than now to kill some people with it!

"Serum doesn't work.." Barton said quickly, flipping off the agent when he made it look like he kicked Clint.

23 put Barton in a headlock, and he happily played along.

"I know.. They think it does but it doesn't help me." The guy replied, taking an elbow to the face as dramatically as an Oscar winner would.

"You fading..?" He asked Clint after the archer fell to his knees, going over again to push him to the ground.

"Little.." He mumbled back, rolling with the punches the agent was throwing so they wouldn't fully connect.

It was true, he really was. He was finding it more and more difficult to keep his eyes open, and breathing was now a struggle. He heard the agent say something, but it was over shadowed by an explosion that rocked the place and sent the crowd into a different kind of screaming.

The agent very quickly jumped up, fighting off some of the guards that came after himself and Clint.

Barton was just struggling to sit up right now though, when he did he just watched for a moment as the carnage unfolded around him.

There weren't many agents, they obviously weren't expecting an evac yet at all. Two guys came in and were already struggling, the agent 23 was trying his best to keep the guards away from Clint.

But that's not who he was really focused on.

He was more focused on the one agent that was fighting their way over, bow and quiver slung on their back all the while.

"Can never stay out of trouble, huh?"

"What can I say? I have a knack for it.." He replied a little less cocky than he usually did, mainly because he was damn grateful to see her face.

"Come on then. We have work to do." She grinned, and he accepted her help up before taking the bow and arrows from her.

It felt like he never missed a beat, because before he knew it, he had three arrows flying into some guys that were coming for them.

"Then let's do this. Seems like you've gotten sloppy without me, Natasha." He grinned, and she rolled her eyes before leading him in a run out of the arena and through the building.

"We've never been better, bird brain!" She snorted back, and he had to laugh. They had fallen back into their old ways so easily, he liked that!

It was simple to fall into routine again. It really was. She had her guns firing into any enemy they came across. His arrows never wavered and hit true each and every time.

"I dunno, seems like you missed a step there!" Natasha gloated as she helped him up a flight of stairs, he just took another bullet, this one to the side, not embedded, just a nasty graze, so of course she was gloating.

"Oh, excuse me miss perfect! I think I just took that one for you! Want it back?" He growled, though he knew well by now that she only ever teased like that to make him forget about things.

"No no. Be a nice thing to bring back to your little work friends."

She kicked open the next door and froze. Easily twenty guns were trained on them on this level, another thirty up top on the balcony.

He glanced at her and gave a weak smile, snaking his arm from around her shoulder to neck an arrow.

"Shall we?" He asked with a smirk, and she just smirked right back.

"Loser buys dinner later."

He nodded in agreement and let the arrow fly, ducking and rolling just like Natasha when a flurry of bullets came their way.

He pressed the familiar button on the handle of his bow and an explosion rang out, taking out about fifteen guys.

"Fifteen to three!" He shouted over to the other side of the room, knowing that's where Natasha was. He ducked a punch that was thrown his way and replied with the bow being smashed in the attackers face, another taking an arrow when he recovered his bow again. "I'll take lobster later!"

"The arrow did that for you, doesn't count!" He heard being called back, and he couldn't help but laugh.

They just kept coming though, and he wasn't getting any stronger. Adrenaline was literally the only thing keeping him going right now.

They were side by side for a moment, guards advancing in on them slowly as they tried catch thier breath.

"Go right, I got this.."

Without another word, he made his way to the balcony where he knew it was clear and started firing arrows. Agent 23 joined soon enough and was trying to help them, but there were just way too many.

Something caught his eye as one of the attackers went down, the arrow through his skull knocked something out of his ear. A comms set..

They were fucked..

If these guys were getting information from someone watching, then they were at a serious disadvantage.

He looked around to see if he could find anywhere it would be, and soon enough he did.

A little box stuck out from the wall above him, he chose here because he thought that would give cover, he never guessed it would be an actual room. But from the looks of it, this large room may have been the old arena. Balcony for viewing and a box for important people.

He'd bet anything that's where they are watching everything.

He had to scramble their comms, and he only knew one way how.

This was going to be bad..

He changed the tips until soon a head was screwed on he very rarely used.

A sonic arrow.

An oldie, but a goodie.

This close proximity though. This was gonna hurt him more than anything.

But they were surrounded, he had to give the others a chance!

Taking aim just above him, he quickly let the arrow fly, trying his best to protect his ears.

No use though..

It exploded nearly immediately, the box went boom, the comms no doubt sent the sound to each attacker down below, and no one would be able to withstand that and fight on.

Barton couldn't, and the sound he got wasn't amplified like theirs would be.

The explosion threw him flat on his back, but there was no ringing, no muffles. There was nothing. He could just see blurred shapes and feel some vibrations around him.

He let out a shuddery breath as he suddenly felt completely weak, letting the darkness take him to the familiar resting place he loved.

* * *

He lost alot that day. So much blood, so much hope for the world outside of SHIELD.

His hearing.

Damn, his hearing..

That was the one main thing that he always regretted..

He sighed as he packed up the chopped wood into the wheelbarrow, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow before gazing up at some clouds.

That mission thought him he could never escape the business. Never.

He could never escape her either..

It had been a while since the last time he saw Natasha.

His world shattered.

She declined his proposal. Said something that morning about not being able to give what either of them wanted and she couldn't pretend she could.

He tried tell her it was fine, that none of it mattered, that he still loved her.

But no use.

She left two days later for another mission and that was that.

He didn't know what would happen between them. She called now and then, with a mission or just to ask opinion, never much personal.

He sighed gently and headed back towards the little house, enough wood in hand for a fire.

He got on with life. He had to. He couldn't wait around for the day that may never come, the day she realised that none of it mattered to him, none of the stuff that she couldn't give mattered to him.

He couldn't dwell on it now though, he had dinner to put on, mouths to feed.

Before he made it to the porch, his cell rang. A withheld number which always meant Natasha.

He groaned a little and dropped the freshly chopped wood, heading in and straight up the stairs to the main room. Mission. Important one if it was a call, he usually got a text.

He needed his bow.

"Where to?" He asked the second he answered the phone, knowing that's all the conversation needed right now.

"Tower. You have 6 hours before we leave." Nothing else, she just hung up. Always business when on the phone.

In person, it might be different. He didn't mind that, maybe once they see eachother again they would just fall back into routine like that day all those years ago.

He would never get out of being a spy..

Actually no. Not that he'd never get out of being a spy.

He'd never want to get out of being Hawkeye.

But, worse than that, so very much worse.

Just hearing her voice say those simple words made him realise too.

No matter how much he tried to move on.

No matter how much he tried get over things.

He would never get out of loving Natasha Romanoff..

* * *

**Be back around the end of May! Thing's will be fine, trust me ;)**

**Thanks for sticking till the end! **

**Much love,**

**Tara.**


End file.
